


A Part Of Me

by stelleshine



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Childcare Ashton, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, Landscaper Calum, M/M, Nurse Luke, Romance, writer michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleshine/pseuds/stelleshine
Summary: After a skate park mishap, could Michael really be lucky enough to find the love of his life in the emergency department?ORI literally wrote this YEARS ago, and have since taken a step back from writing. It's largely unedited (and until the day I posted it, untitled). So please enjoy.
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

When Michael slammed his way into the emergency department of St Vincent’s hospital in Sydney, he was in incredible, overwhelming pain.

He figured the gravel rash that had cut through his tight jeans, and the raw wound on his palms and face had something to do with it, but he was too distracted trying not to cry, as his best mate and partner in crime practically dragged him through the doors.

Michael’s feelings towards his injuries sobered somewhat when we saw people who were _actually_ in pain; those on stretchers sucking from green whistles, or those holding sickness bags with shaky hands. He figured that the emergency department had seen much worse injuries than he’d sustained, even if they were the most painful thing Michael had _ever_ endured.

“Would you quit fucking _whining_?” Calum grumbled under his breath, practically throwing Michael into one of the chairs in the waiting room.

Michael pouted, nursing his injured hands against his chest. “You _wound_ me,” he accused. “When I’m already _wounded_.”

Calum rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, sweat beading over his forehead. “I told you not to do it,” he responded pointedly. “You’ve never fucking touched a skateboard in your _life_ , but you figured you could drop in from the top of the half pipe?”

Michael took Calum’s scoff personally, and only tugged his injured hands closer to his face. “You know I’m powerless to stop my stupid ideas around cute boys.”

Calum slumped down in the chair beside Michael and rolled his eyes. “How many times have I told you that Ashton’s straight? And he couldn’t give a fuck if you could drop in, he only goes to the skate park because he likes the trees, and he always sees those fancy birds he likes.”

Michael rolled his eyes right back at his friend. “He’s _not_ straight, and I think he kind of likes _you_.”

Calum’s cheeks went slightly pink and he elbowed Michael in the ribs. “I like _girls_ , Michael.”

“Which is incredibly inconvenient considering you’re _gay_!” Michael huffed, blowing air over his stinging palms.

They’d had the sexual orientation fight a thousand times.

Michael had known his own proclivities since his early teenage years. He had no doubt in his mind during his year eight swimming rotation, and changing in front his entire class and he was _always_ the last one out in the pool. Partly because he’d been sneakily watching the other boys change, and usually because he had to take a few moments to talk down his rampant libido.

Calum had been different.

He hadn’t liked labels from the beginning, even when he’d kissed Michael the first night they got drunk on shitty wine they found in the Clifford’s panty. Michael had been _elated_ – they were fifteen and he’d been holding onto his secret for _years_ , but Calum had shut him down the moment Michael had started flapping his hands through the air and bouncing on his bed and spilling wine all over his Star Wars quilt cover – and Calum had punched him in the side and told him to _shut up_.

Michael just figured that was how he needed to deal with things, so Michael shut up.

Over the years, they’d make out until Calum got a girlfriend and Michael just knew he shouldn’t ask. It didn’t matter, anyway. Calum was Michael’s soulmate, but as they grew older Michael didn’t care that Calum didn’t want to answer his probing questions.

He’d push and pull and shove until Calum would hit him or tell him off, but Michael loved him.

“He’s straight,” Calum grunted out, slouching for a moment before pushing himself to his feet and walking away from Michael towards the registrar office, getting in line behind the sick and injured who could still stand.

Michael watched him and couldn’t help the soft smile that formed on his face. Calum’s shoulders were stooped like he carried the weight of the world on them, and Michael knew he shouldn’t be so hard on him.

Calum had been harbouring a secret crush on Ashton for _ages_ , even though he refused to admit it. But Michael had known the very day Calum had met the elusive Ashton, because Calum had practically _floated_ through the door to their shared rental, his cheeks pink, and not from the sun.

His consultation with his new client had gone swimmingly, and even though Michael knew Calum _loved_ his job as a landscape designer, he seemed ten times more enthusiastic when describing his first meet with Ashton.

He’d gone into it expecting a fairly uniform first meet with a new client. Calum had the address scrawled on a scrap of paper in his leather bound folder, and he’d been five minutes early, which worked out, because the property – 28 Norfolk St Mount Druitt – had definitely seen some hard times.

The yard was an uneven mess of tree roots, rocks and dead and dying plants. The house itself was in as worse a shape as the front yard, and Calum fully understood why Ashton had classed it a _fixer upper_ when they’d spoken on the phone.

But Calum liked a challenge, and he admired Ashton’s honesty when he’d admitted he’d bought the place for his mother and two younger siblings. He’d insisted he owed her after their somewhat difficult upbringing, and Michael was almost certain that Calum was in love before he’d ever even laid eyes on Ashton.

His feelings probably furthered when Ashton had pulled into the cracked driveway to say hello with the brightest smile and excitable wave. They’d traversed the front yard, and the back was even worse. Issues with the hot water system was just the beginning, but Ashton was more than enthusiastic about putting all his time and hard work into bringing the house and yard back to life.

That’s where Calum had come in.

He’d sat with Ashton on the rickety pack patio and estimated the job before him, figuring that three months was a good place to start, considering renovations on the house would be taking place at the same time.

But sometime after the second week of working together, Ashton had invited Calum out for drinks, and their friendship had formed so quick and fast Michael was a little jealous. But seeing them together wasn’t like a normal friendship. Calum never looked quite so alive when Ashton was around.

And even though Michael didn’t know Ashton all that well – though he was ridiculously attractive and flirting with him made Calum insanely jealous – he seemed like the most easy going guy in the world. Michael figured he had to be considering he was a group leader of three year olds in a childcare centre, and found bird watching on his weekends _relaxing._

Michael just liked seeing his best friend _happy._

Even if that meant he had to go to the skate park with him on a Saturday afternoon so he could subtly perve on Ashton while pretending to give a fuck about skateboarding.

They had the same argument all the time – at twenty-six they were too _old_ for skateboarding – but Calum was steadfast. Michael was pretty sure Ashton had caught onto the fact that Calum knew nothing about skateboarding, and he probably suspected Calum was more into _him_ than anything else.

But they’d usually end up sitting under a tree with Ashton as he sketched out pictures of birds in an art journal, and took photos of flowers and trees he liked. They’d usually find themselves in a conversation about trees and which ones would look best in Ashton’s train wreck of a backyard, and then Michael usually tuned them out and got bored.

Which led him to trying to drop in off the half pipe because some teenagers were goading him into it, and Michael wasn’t letting some fifteen year old prick that reminded him too much of himself call him a _chicken_.

He supposed he was right, though, because Michael had tried to drop in on a borrowed board and _almost_ made it, before it was sliding out from beneath his feet and he was careening off the pipe and onto the sharp gravel beside it.

Just remembering the accident made his injuries flare again, and Michael was clenching his teeth by the time Calum got back to him.

“They said an hour.”

“An _hour_?” Michael bit out. “I’m fucking _dying_ , Calum!”

They observed the doors opening suddenly, and two paramedics pushed a stretcher through with an old man strapped to it.

“Pretty sure _he’s_ dying,” Calum commented lowly as the bed was pushed past them towards a curtained off area.

“This sucks,” Michael pouted, inspecting his hands. They were marred with torn flesh and flecks of gravel, and he knew it was going to hurt like a bitch when the nurse would have to clean it out.

It was probably preferable to the ripped skin of his right leg, his skin positively stinging through the torn fabric of his skinny jeans. He slumped further in his seat and tried not to bump any of his wounds.

“You know you tore your eyebrow ring, right?”

Michael gasped, lifting his injured left hand to prod above his right brow, his fingers nudging the painful bar pierced through it. He could feel dried blood, and he was tempted to wiggle the piercing to see just how much damage he’d done, but he could feel fresh blood coat his fingers the more he touched.

“Leave it alone,” Calum told him, slapping his hand away.

Michael made a face, and watched a nurse appear to collect an awaiting patient and he let out a soft, perturbed sigh. “Wake me when they want me.”

Calum rolled his eyes, but let Michael put his head down on his shoulder all the same.

**

“Wake the fuck up.”

Michael jerked, feeling his eyebrow piercing pull, and he was scowling as he straightened up in his seat. “What the _fuck_ , Cal?”

Calum sighed. “I think you’re next.”

Michael tried to wipe away the blood that threatened to run into his eye, and he wondered how long he’d been asleep. It felt like no time at all, his hands still stinging and his leg almost numb to the biting pain.

“Fuck, Michael, you got blood on me.”

Michael wasn’t the least bit sorry when he saw the bloodstain on Calum’s white t-shirt. Served him right for forcing him to hang out at the same skate park. Calum knew how bored he could get, that he’d make stupid decisions when he had nothing else to do.

It was probably why Michael had pursued art.

He always lost time in front of a canvas or a piece of paper. Nothing else mattered when Michael was creating something, and even though he wasn’t raking money in – _yet_ – he knew art would take him somewhere. His writing had the potential, he knew it.

But his mind was sometime his worst enemy, forcing periods of sever writer’s block when he couldn’t even _think_ about touching his computer he was so wound up. In those times, he had pencils and paints, and he could always get out his frustration on _something_ before going back to his book.

“I think you’re next.”

Michael blinked, his eyes a little unfocused and he felt sluggish and drowsy, but he managed to focus his eyes on the woman walking towards him, wearing a navy skirt down to her knees, and a green blouse. She smiled when she stopped in front of him, flicking her eyes at her clipboard.

“I think you’re going to need stitches,” she said in way of greeting. “Follow me?”

Michael had to let Calum pull him to his feet, his legs stiff after sitting for so long. He limped after the nurse, down a short corridor and behind a curtain.

“Alright,” she smiled, setting her clipboard down on a small trolley. “I’m going to get a suture kit, and some saline, so why don’t you pop a gown on for me?”

Michael saw the folded gown on the bed in the centre of the room, and he nodded his head dumbly as the nurse left the room.

“I’m not helping you,” Calum said flatly once she was gone. “This is your mess.”

“Oh come on,” Michael whined. “I’ve _literally_ lost the use of my hands. I’ve refrained from telling you just how that is going to affect my job, so the least _you_ can do is help me into a fucking gown.”

Calum rolled his eyes and huffed his frustration but helped Michael out of his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt before he was roughly popping open Michael’s button fly, and tugging the fabric down his legs.

“Be fucking careful,” Michael bit out as his torn pants tugged at his injuries.

“Sit,” Calum told him and dropped down to one knee, carefully pulling the fabric down, keeping the denim from dragging against Michael’s raw flesh.

It was unavoidable in some places, the dried blood had almost adhered Michael’s skin to his jeans, and he had to refrain himself from hitting his friend. He let out a massive sigh of relief when he was in just his socks and undies, and Calum was helping him into the gown.

The nurse appeared a few moments later, carrying the items that would most likely cause Michael more pain than anything else so far. He wasn’t looking forward to it – he knew by looking at his leg and his hands that picking out the gravel was going to be fucking _painful_ – but he was a grown up.

He could do this.

**

Michael could _not_ do this.

As the nurse pealed the plastic sterile cover off of the suture kit and laid out the various items she’d need, Michael started to panic. Each tool looked even more barbaric than the last, and he was envisioning hours of her poking and prodding at his torn flesh. She had barely even put on sterile gloves when he started babbling.

“Like, do you think this is just something that will heal on its own?” he questioned, biting at his bottom lip.

Calum snickered from where he leant against the gurney, and Michael fought the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

The nurse smiled, sitting down on a small stool and rolled towards him, setting the sterile trays down on a small table. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Damn,” Michael breathed, looking down at his leg. He could _see_ the gravel, and could imagine just how bad it would hurt to have it pulled out.

“Don’t fret just yet,” the nurse advised, reaching for her clipboard. “I have a few questions, first.”

Michael nodded, sucking in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to let his fear show, though he was pretty sure his thinly veiled confidence was just that.

“Did you hit your head at all during your fall?” the nurse asked.

Michael blinked. “I-I mean, yeah?” he said, confused. “My eyebrow?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I know, it’s an obvious question, but I have to ask.”

Michael was suddenly put at ease that maybe this woman did know what she was doing, though he was terrified for a quick moment that she was unable to see the obvious wound on his forehead.

“Did you lose consciousness at all?”

Michael turned to look at Calum, because suddenly, the details were kind of hazy.

“Maybe only just for a second,” Calum shrugged.

The nurse nodded and jotted something down on the clipboard. “Any pain in your neck?”

Michael tipped his head forward and shook his head. “Nope.”

“How about your arms? Can you hold them out in front of you?”

Michael could do it, he could.

But the moment he _tried_ , pain in his shoulders registered and he swore.

“Uh oh,” the nurse said softly, standing up and abandoning her clipboard for a moment. “Can I take a look?”

Michael was too busy trying not to pass out from the pain in his right shoulder to give consent, and he wasn’t too bothered when the nurse loosened his gown to pull it down to inspect his shoulder.

“Where do you feel the pain, in the front or back of your shoulder?”

“Front,” Michael bit out, fighting against the urge to gag.

“I’m just going to get the ED RN,” she said, leaving his gown loose on his shoulder.

“Why?” Michael choked out. “Oh God, is it broken? Do I need surgery?”

“It looks like a self-healed dislocation. I just want a second opinion.”

Michael let out a soft, helpless whine and looked to Calum for help.

Calum looked worried himself, his brows drawn together as he took a look at Michael’s shoulder as the nurse left the room.

“Oh my God, this is all your _fault_ ,” Michael hissed, cradling his injured hands in his lap.

“ _My_ fault?” Calum demanded indignantly. “How the hell is this _my_ fault? I didn’t push you down the half pipe!”

“You weren’t _watching_ me,” Michael spat. “You know I’m not good unsupervised.”

Calum snorted. “You’re how old? Seriously, it’s not my fault you tried to prove to a bunch of teenagers you weren’t a pussy.”

Michael swore at him under his breath and pouted, feeling sorry for himself.

Calum got up from his perch on the hospital bed to poke at some of the instruments on the tray in front of Michael’s hands. “I think I could totally do your stitches,” he said confidently, picking up a pair of sterile scissors.

“Not with those you won’t,” Michael insisted. “In fact, put them down, I don’t trust you with them.”

Calum rolled his eyes and went to make a snipping motion at Michael, but the scissors slipped from his hand and Michael watched in slow motion as they fell through the air, and the handle bumped off one of his injured palms, and clattered to the floor.

“I’m sorry!” Calum yelped, a look of pure horror on his face.

Michael ignored him momentarily, took focused on the sharp, biting pain. It _hurt_ , and he was torn between holding onto his pride and manliness, and wanting to _cry_.

“Michael, _say_ something,” Calum begged.

“Fuck you,” Michael bit out.

Calum huffed out a laugh. “That’s something, I guess.”

Michael would’ve flipped him off, if it didn’t hurt so much. He couldn’t really focus on anything else but the throbbing pain, and he hated himself for a few moments for being so stupid. He knew he had no business with a skateboard, but he’d done it anyway, and now he was in significant pain and had no outlet to let go of it.

He bought his left palm up to his face to inspect the gravel waiting to be picked out, and he wondered if he could ask for a local. He was lost in his thoughts, and keeping an eye on Calum to make sure he didn’t touch any other medical tools, when the curtain moved and the nurse returned.

Her expression was openly apologetic, and Michael wondered if he was her wimpiest patient for the day. He could imagine five year olds with more stamina than he had, but this was the most pain he’d been in ever since he broke his arm in primary school.

“If it makes you feel any better, your right isn’t as bad as your left.”

Michael let out a breathy laugh and tried to relax as the nurse put on a fresh pair of gloves. “It doesn’t, but I appreciate you trying.”

She smiled and reached for his right hand, guiding it under the bright light aimed at the small table sitting between them. “The ED RN will be in soon, he’s just tied up with another patient.”

Michael nodded, gnawing on his lip as the nurse turned her attention to his leg. “No time like the present?”

Michael smiled uneasily, shifting on the bed so the nurse could guide the bright light towards his wound, grabbing for the sterile instruments waiting on the table.

He tried not to look at the tweezers, or the gauze squares or even the saline, knowing that he was in for a world of pain, no matter what.

As the nurse started – squirting saline into his wound – and Michael tried to think about other things. Like imagining the order he was going to place at McDonalds after he was released from the hospital. He was going to get the most expensive thing he could, and make Calum pay for it, because Michael just knew that their hospital trip would be something Calum would hold over him for the rest of his _life_.

“Almost there,” the nurse said after a few long moments, dabbing gently at his wound and picking a few more pieces of gravel out.

“Jesus,” Michael breathed, his fingers shaking from where his hands lay motionless at his sides.

“Done,” the nurse promised, sitting back from Michael and reached for some gauze, taping it over Michael’s gravel-free skin.

He sucked in a few grateful breaths, and looked to Calum, who was both feeling his pain _and_ enjoying how much pain Michael was in.

Some best friend.

The nurse set up to clean his hands next, and Michael wasn’t ready, but he had no choice, and had to suck it up as the nurse carefully picked and washed out his hands. By the time she was done, and he was wearing gauze squares over both palms, he was _done_ , and ready to sob with gratitude when the curtain opened and another nurse entered the small room, armed with three thick charts in his arms.

“You’ve got a suspected dislocated shoulder or deltoid tear, Lisa?”

Michael swallowed, and all other sounds – and most importantly, his pain – faded out as he looked at the nurse. He was definitely not the kind of nurse Michael had ever seen. His mother was a nurse, had been for most of his life, and he remembered nurses in her maternity ward were sweet, and kind, and _female_ , but this nurse was anything but.

If Michael had to guess, he was at _least_ six-three, with the softest, blondest hair that curled around his ears, and flopped down over his right eye. He was wearing navy blue scrubs that hugged his broad shoulders, and from what Michael could see, complimented his deep blue eyes _perfectly_.

“I’m torn between glenohumeral dislocation or the deltoid tear.”

The nurse nodded and lifted his attention from the chart, and looked between Michael and the nurse – Lisa. “Have you done a stress test?”

Lisa nodded. “He can’t raise his arms above chest height, and complains of anterior deltoid pain and there is definitely a contusion.”

The man looked at Michael and smiled – and Michael _may_ have swooned. “I’m Luke,” he introduced. “I’m the on call RN and Lisa wanted a second opinion on your shoulder.”

Michael nodded, his head bobbing too fast, his vision swimming.

The nurse – _Luke_ – leant in and took a look at Michael’s shoulder, pressing his fingertips against it, and Michael whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said softly.

“S’okay,” Michael grunted out.

The nurse stood back. “Could you lift your arms for me?”

Michael didn’t want to, and he knew he couldn’t, but he tried, but by the time his arms reached chest height, he couldn’t go any further.

“Deltoid tear,” Luke said, picking up Lisa’s clipboard. “Are you right to fit an anterior sling?”

“I’ve only done it once before.”

Luke nodded. “I can fit it. Your shift is over, isn’t it?”

Lisa looked at the watch pinned to her blouse. “An hour ago.”

Luke smiled. “Go, I can finish up.”

Michael was still in the throes of pain, because now that he had a _third_ injury, all of a sudden _everything_ hurt.

He wasn’t too aware of Lisa leaving, though he could remember thanking her for the cruel and unusual punishment before it was just him, Calum and Luke, and Michael just wanted to _sleep_.

“Skateboarding, hey?”

Michael blushed, watching as Luke took a seat on the stool Lisa had vacated and smiled his way, reaching for a suture kit and a clean pair of gloves. “I didn’t think you had to give a reason for stupidity on the form.”

Calum elbowed him with a snort. “You’re welcome.”

Luke smiled. “How’s your pain level? I can give you a whistle, if you want? I’ll administer a local when I stitch up your eyebrow.”

“Pain is okay,” Michael answered flippantly, deciding he was going to hold onto his masculinity in front of the hot nurse.

“You were literally almost crying before,” Calum offered.

Michael turned his head sharply towards his friend and gave him a _look_ , that Calum seemed to understand, but didn’t give a shit about.

“He could probably use the whistle,” Calum smirked.

Luke laughed softly, and rolled towards a shelving unit and pulled open a plastic draw and removed one of the green whistles. “This is penthrox, and it’s just something to ease the pain, not remove it completely. In six to ten breaths you should start to feel its effects.”

Michael nodded, letting Calum take it from the nurse, and held it to his lips and Michael took a massive hit off of it, hoping that one big breath would do the job instead of six normal ones.

Luke chuckled, throwing the plastic packaging into a waste bin, and pulled on gloves before angling the bright light down closer to Michael’s face. “You ready?”

Michael wasn’t, he’d had about enough pain to last him a lifetime, but the blood running into his eyes needed to be stopped, and he figured the only way that was going to happen was if Luke stitched it shut.

“I might fit your sling, first,” Luke mused, getting up off his seat to pull open a plastic drawer and withdrew a navy blue sling inside plastic packaging. “You might want to suck on that whistle.”

Michael did as he was told, sucking in deeply as Luke opened the sling and unfolded it. He kept sucking desperately until Luke was ready to fit it on him.

“Okay,” the nurse said, a comforting smile on his face. “This will hurt, I’m afraid, but it’ll feel so much better once it’s restricted.”

Michael didn’t trust Luke’s kind words, and trusted them even less when he was guiding his arm up and into the sling and by the time it was hooked around his body, Michael had tears in his eyes and his hands were too shaky to hold the whistle.

“Are you alright?”

Michael looked up at him, into his bright blue eyes. “Am I a wuss if I say no?”

Luke smiled. “Not at all. You probably tore the muscle pretty good. I want you to have an x-ray.”

Next to him, Calum’s phone started to vibrate, and Michael felt mildly guilty that he’d been ignoring his best friend, but he’d been a little preoccupied.

“It’s a client,” Calum explained. “You alright?”

Michael nodded, waving him away as Luke set up to stitch up his eyebrow.

Once Calum had left, and Luke was putting on yet another pair of surgical gloves, Michael tried to relax. It was impossible, his body so exhausted from the previous few hours, and he knew he must look like shit, but figured Luke was used to seeing people at their worst.

“Do you skateboard often?”

Michael blinked, not realizing he’d faded out until Luke was talking to him, rolling his stool closer so he could inspect his eye. “What do you think?”

Luke laughed softly, his eyes connecting with Michael’s for a moment. “Even pros have bad days.”

“Definitely not a pro,” Michael smiled. “And I think after this, I won’t be trying again.”

“Hey, don’t give up on your dreams,” Luke laughed softly. “Maybe give your injuries some time to heal before you try again, though.”

“Well, I admire your confidence in me, but I think this is my first and last attempt at skateboarding.”

“That’s may be a wise decision,” Luke smiled, his blue eyes so bright and alive.

Michael knew that developing a crush on a nurse was a bad idea. Luke was literally going to stitch him up and send him on his way, and all Michael would be left with was crushed hopes and dreams, however unrealistic they seemed.

“How are you with needles?” Luke asked, peeling off his gloves and put another pair on, and tugged open another drawer to get the supplies he needed.

“I got my eyebrow pierced, didn’t I?” Michael shot back.

Luke laughed, tipping his head back momentarily before nodding. “That’s true. So can I skip the local?”

“Uh, no?” Michael responded.

Luke laughed again, and his nose scrunched up. “We don’t waste anaesthetic if we don’t have to.”

Michael snorted. “You’re not coming at me with a needle and thread without a local, I don’t care how cute you are.”

Luke’s skin seemed to flush from his neck all the way up to his forehead, and Michael was momentarily mortified at his stupidity.

“I mean,” he said quickly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “It’s protocol, right? If you’re going to stitch someone up, they at least get the benefit of anaesthetic?”

Luke wheeled his stool back towards Michael and moved the light so it was shining at Michael’s forehead. “I only give a local to the cute ones,” he said softly, peeling open a new needle. “And would you look at that?”

It was Michael’s turn to blush as Luke screwed the needle onto the plunger, and readied it to squeeze into Michael’s eyebrow. And even though it stung when Luke was putting it into his skin, Michael was more focused on Luke up close, at the blonde scruff on his jaw, and the tufts of blonde hair curling around his ears.

“Alright?”

“What?” Michael asked.

Luke smiled, taking apart the needle and disposed of the pieces in different waste baskets. “Lost feeling yet?”

Michael tried raising his right eyebrow, and found he couldn’t really feel it. “I think so.”

Luke grabbed the suture kit and peeled off the sterile cover. “I’m going to have to take your piercing out,” he said. “I’ll try and sew it together so you can put it in again, but you might need it re pierced.”

“Alright,” Michael said softly.

Luke took out Michael’s piercing out, and then picked up the medical thread and tweezers, and reached up to Michael’s eyebrow, clamping his skin between the tweezers, and deftly started the first stitch.

“Is this the dumbest injury you’ve ever seen?” Michael asked softly.

Luke smiled, his focus on Michael’s brow. “No, believe it or not. I see a lot more stupid injuries than this. Last night I had to stich up this drunk guy who’d tried to jump over a concrete bollard and smashed his face on a garden bed.”

“Ouch,” Michael murmured softly.

“You wouldn’t believe the things people do when they’re drunk.”

“Do you work nights?”

Luke frowned, concentrating momentarily on the next stitch before answering. “Mostly. I do one day shift a week, but mostly do the seven till seven shift.”

“Have you been a nurse long?”

“About five years, now. I did my internship here, and I was going to go into paediatric nursing, but I seemed to do really well in the emergency department, so I stayed.”

Michael fell silent as Luke’s eyes narrowed in concentration, and he tried not to be too obvious, checking out the nurse up close. Michael could see a small piercing hole through the left side of his bottom lip, and he was tempted to ask Luke about it.

“I think that should do it,” Luke murmured, tying off the last stitch and picked up the scissors and snipped the medical thread before rolling backwards on his stool.

Michael tried to lift his eyebrows but the dull sensation in his right one was weird. He just stayed still as Luke put a band aid over it, and heaved a sigh of relief that maybe it was all _over_ now.

“You’re going to need to see your GP in about five days to get those stitches out.”

“I can’t come back to the hospital?”

Luke smiled, taking off his gloves and threw away all the sterile equipment he’d used. “Is my bedside manner that good?”

Michael grinned, reaching up to prod at his numb eyebrow. “You did do a pretty good job.”

Luke laughed. “The only way you’re getting back in here to see me, is out of the back of an ambulance, or another skate park dilemma.”

“Noted,” Michael grinned. “What about that x-ray, hm?”

“I can write you a referral,” Luke nodded, flipping through a few pages on the clipboard and pulled a pen out of his breast pocket and started to write.

Michael watched him, and could see how ineligible Luke’s handwriting was, but he took the referral anyway, and a prescription for panadeine forte.

“You can get this filled at the hospital pharmacy,” Luke told him. “You can buy over the counter, but you’re going to be feeling this pretty soon, so just head to the dispensary next door to the ED.”

“Okay.”

The curtain opened again, and Calum returned, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You all done?”

“We are,” Luke confirmed. “I’ve given your boyfriend a prescription for pain relief, so be sure he gets that filled.”

Michael snorted, letting out a loud burst of laughter at the mention of Calum being his _boyfriend_.

“We’re not dating,” Calum said flatly, turning his attention to Michael. “Though I am offended that you think it’s so preposterous.”

Michael rolled his eyes and slipped down off the exam table, reaching out to grab onto Calum, looking back at Luke. “Definitely not boyfriends.”

Luke smiled. “Then I hope your _friend_ takes care of you.”

“I think he’d prefer you to do it,” Calum threw out.

Michael pinched him – _hard_ – and tried to keep his cheeks from flushing bright red. “Alright, well, thanks Luke,” he said quickly, and shoved Calum toward the opening in the curtains. “I’ll uh, probably never see you again considering I won’t be skateboarding again, _ever_.”

“Well, take care regardless,” Luke said warmly, his smile so easy and honest on his face, and Michael _swooned_.

He did manage to hold it in until Calum was leading them out into the carpark, and then he was shoving his friend violently.

“Have I not been humiliated enough today?”

Calum cackled, fishing the keys to his ute out of his pocket. “Oh come on, you were making eyes at the pretty nurse like you already have a crush.”

Michael limped to the passenger side and waited until the doors were unlocked before he attempted to climb in. “Yeah, well, you couldn’t just let me have my moment, could you?”

“You’re never going to see him again!” Calum insisted, rounding the car to help Michael. “But I could shove you into the garden so you could go back in there?”

Michael contemplated it, for a few long seconds, but decided that _no_ , he wasn’t that crazy, creepy stalker guy that would let his best friend _injure_ him so he could see the cute nurse again.

“You thought about it,” Calum pointed out. “You really are whipped.”

“Just help me into the car and take me home, asshole,” Michael griped.

Calum laughed and helped Michael into the car, but made no promises to stop the roasting.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael’s never been shot. Or stabbed, or been in any sort of physical fight.

Ever.

Apart from face planting at the skate park, his injury list wasn’t a long one. Broken arm as a kid, a few minor scrapes and bumps that came from tearing around the backyard after his childhood dog.

But falling over in the pitch black bathroom at one am felt like he was dying, and he didn’t even try to disguise the pained shout that came out of his mouth. His injured shoulder hit the sink, and he caught himself on the edge of the tub with his free hand, slapping his stinging palm against the porcelain surface.

He ended up on one knee, his right hand curled tight into a fist and stinging painfully, his leg aching, but his shoulder was the worst. He couldn’t _breathe_ it hurt so bad, and he knew he’d hyperventilate and pass out if he didn’t at least try to calm down.

“Calum!”

Michael expected it to take forever for his best friend to wake up, remembering back to many sleep overs when they were kids where Calum could sleep through Michael playing GTA at high volume at midnight, and barely even flinched.

But Michael figured he’d been loud enough, because Calum slammed his way into the bathroom and turned the light on, blinding them both.

“Jesus fuck,” Calum groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “What happened?”

Michael let his head hang forward and he groaned, unable to move an inch. “Fell,” he panted out. “Help.”

Calum did, stepping over Michael’s prone form to reach for his uninjured arm. “Can you stand?”

“I can’t,” Michael gasped, the slightest movements making him see stars.

“Oh fuck,” Calum whispered.

Michael was trying to concentrate on staying conscious, but was losing his battle. His vision went white and his legs trembled.

“I should call an ambulance,” Calum commented absently.

Michael wasn’t sure why; didn’t have it in him to ask, but he knew it was bad. Because breathing was becoming harder, and the pain in his shoulder was a roaring fire, and he was certain it was dislocated, which was what he heard Calum say into his phone, to the emergency services operator.

He stayed where he was, his free hand curled loosely in his shirt, as Calum petted his hair and told him help was on the way. Michael didn’t have any other option than to believe him, and he was relieved when Calum had to leave his side to let the paramedics in, and Michael couldn’t _believe_ how ridiculous the past few hours of his life had been.

He thought that the worst had already happened, a few stitches and gravel rash and a slightly humiliating run in with a hot nurse. It was not supposed to get to this point, where strangers were slowly pulling him up off the floor, the pain ripping through his body before someone handed him a green whistle that he sucked on eagerly.

He was so exhausted, but lying on the stretcher took some pressure off his shoulder, and Michael promptly passed out as he was loaded into an ambulance, bound for St Vincent’s.

**

“Twenty-six year old male, was involved in a skateboarding accident at four pm yesterday afternoon. Suffered from a torn anterior deltoid, and was fitted with a sling. He had a fall in his bathroom this morning, and from our initial exam, he has dislocated his right shoulder.”

Michael’s eyes were hooded where he lay on the stretcher, sucking on the whistle in his mouth and trying not to fall asleep, the pain fading into a dull throb. Calum was by his side, dressed appropriately while Michael was still in his sleep t-shirt and Lego boxer briefs, though he was endlessly grateful for the blanket across his legs.

“Take bay four,” someone said, pointing down the hall. “We’ll need the RN to order a mobile x-ray.”

Michael’s bed suddenly moved again, and he closed his eyes, curling his injured left hand around the bottom of his right elbow, cringing against the pain.

He listened to the paramedic repeat his list of injuries to someone else when the bed stopped, and a hand settled against Michael’s forearm. He opened his eyes to see a bemused smile, and lively, bright blue eyes.

“Showing up in an ambulance wasn’t a serious suggestion, you know,” Luke said softly.

Michael cracked a slow, tired smile and sighed. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for blue eyes.”

Luke laughed. “Well alright then, considering you gave your shoulder a fair whack, I should take a look.”

Michael nodded slowly.

“I’ll have to get your friend to wait outside though, we’re going to need to do an x-ray.”

“Are you alright on your own?” Calum asked seriously, running his fingers through Michael’s sweaty, dark hair.

“Mhm,” Michael hummed, his eyes half-open. “I’ve got Luke.”

Luke chuckled as Calum pressed a kiss to Michael’s temple and exited the makeshift room leaving Michael with Luke and two other nurses.

“Fancy some morphine?” Luke offered, wheeling over an IV pole. “I’m going to need to poke and push at your shoulder.”

“Then give me all the morphine,” Michael mumbled.

Luke smiled and grabbed for a pair of gloves, and a tray. “I’ll have to start an IV, okay? Then we’ll pump some into you before I start my exam.”

Michael nodded, letting Luke move his left arm out to the side a bit, and felt the gentle press of his fingertips before the sting of the needle bit into his skin.

“Okay,” Luke said softly, taping the port down, and reached for the morphine needle on the tray. “I’m going to push this, and give you ten, alright?”

Michael wasn’t sure if he responded, but he could feel the sudden rush of cool liquid rushing into his veins. It was nice, comforting almost, and he let out a tired sigh as he tried to relax.

There were sounds around him; nurses moving tray tables and IV poles, and someone attached a blood pressure cuff to his left arm, and then he felt the constricting pressure as it inflated. There was a temperature monitor hooked onto his index finger, and the blanket over his legs was removed.

He was cold and so tired, and the longer time dragged on, the more exhausted he felt.

“How’s your pain level, Michael?”

Michael opened his eyes to see Luke standing beside his bed, jotting things down on the chart in his hands, eyes flicking from a monitor and back to the page. Michael swallowed, his throat dry and he coughed. “Okay, I think?”

“Good,” Luke smiled, and snapped the chart shut, and put it into the holder at the end of Michael’s bed. “I’m going to have to cut your shirt off and get a look at your shoulder.”

“Tit for tat,” Michael mumbled. “I take mine off, you take yours.”

Luke and the other nurses laughed. “How about we settle for taking yours off first, hm?”

Michael smiled, looking over at Luke. “Whatever you say.”

Luke got the medical scissors and cut Michael’s shirt off before he started pressing his fingers against his shoulder. “You did a great job.”

“Thanks,” Michael smiled. “Is it bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen,” Luke told him. “I want to take an x-ray and if it’s fairly straight forward, I can pop it back in and keep you under observation overnight. I’m worried you may have had a bump to your head when you had your original injury, or possibly your fall in the bathroom.”

“You’re so smart,” Michael breathed. “Like, _really_ smart.”

Luke chuckled. “Compared to you, I am,” he teased. “But you’re in safe hands, I promise.”

Michael nodded, and didn’t object as Luke directed him onto his back and started to move him into position for the x-ray. He blinked his eyes open, watching Luke’s movements, his expression serious as he worked.

“You’ve got the prettiest eyes,” Michael sighed.

Luke grinned, his eyes on the bag of fluids he was hanging on an IV pole. “Thank you.”

“Do you get hit on all the time?” Michael asked, his brain-to-mouth filter clearly failing. “Because like, you should be.”

Luke looked down at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the IV bag. “You’re on quite a lot of painkillers,” he mused. “You’re going to be mortified when you sober up.”

Michael grinned. “You should let me take you out. We’ll go to the skate park.”

Luke laughed at that, leaning away from Michael to move an x-ray machine into the room with the help of a nurse.

“Maybe not the skate park,” Michael mumbled.

He fell silent as a machine was fitted on top of him, over his shoulder and the nurses stepped away. He heard a whirring and then what sounded like a photograph being taken before the machine fell silent, and Michael sighed.

The morphine was pumping through his veins and he was _so_ tired, and the pain had faded away to the point where sleep felt possible, until he was being jostled again, and hands were cupping around his injured shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said softly, his touch gentle.

“S’okay,” Michael breathed. “Just doin’ your job.”

“I’ll walk you through this, okay?” Luke told him, his touch disappearing. “By the looks of your films it’s not a bad dislocation. It looks like you probably stretched the muscle when you had your fall, and the one in your bathroom just popped it out of the socket.”

“Ow,” Michael commented softly. “That sounds bad.”

“It’ll take me three minutes, tops,” Luke promised. “Then I swear I’ll stop touching you and you can get some rest.”

“Oh, the touching is fine,” Michael mumbled, sleepily opening his eyes, grinning up at Luke.

Luke grinned. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Michael chuckled softly, forcing himself to open his eyes, to stay conscious. “Right, how do you want me?”

“On your back, relaxed,” Luke told him, leaning away from Michael and pushed a monitor to the head of his bed. “I just want you to lay really still, and I’m going to give you something extra in your IV that will make you feel a little out of it.”

“Already do,” Michael grinned tiredly.

“Well you have had a big day,” Luke smiled, and looked over Michael’s bed to a nurse, asking for her assistance.

Michael stared up at the white ceiling, trying not to focus on anything but keeping his breathing even, and his body still. He did tense when Luke’s fingers encircled his right wrist, lifting his arm. Michael felt phantom pain, as if it was burning all over again but whatever was running through his veins was keeping his senses dull.

“That’s it,” Luke said softly, his touch sliding up the inside of Michael’s arm. “You’re doing great, Michael.”

“Mhm,” Michael responded, his eyes open and still on the ceiling.

Luke manipulated his arm slowly, his fingers moving up to the dislocated joint, and all at once, he applied just the right amount of pressure, and it deftly popped back into place.

Michael let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Nothing felt any different, but he was comforted by Luke’s fingers against his skin. He chanced a look, watching as Luke fitted a sling around him, keeping his arm tight and motionless against his chest.

“All done,” Luke told him softly, adjusting the sling a little more. “Wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“No,” Michael mumbled. “You’ve got the magic touch.”

Luke laughed softly. “Well, that’s all the touching over with. I’m going to keep you here in ED for the next few hours under observation until we can get you a CT scan.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed. “Can I sleep?”

“Sure can,” Luke confirmed. “I’ll even go and get your friend, he can keep you company.”

“You can’t stay?” Michael asked, his fingertips grazing Luke’s wrist.

“Can’t,” Luke said. “I’m the only RN on shift.”

“M’gonna make you explain all these random letters when I wake up.”

Luke chuckled. “I look forward to it. Get some rest, Michael.”

Michael was already half way asleep when Luke left the room to fetch Calum.

**

When Michael woke up, it felt like he’d been hit by a bus.

He was aware of the pain he was in; from his shoulder to his hands all the way down to his legs, and he had an ache at the base of his skull that wouldn’t go away. He felt restricted, like the blankets over him were too tight, but he realized that was the sling holding his right arm immobile to his chest.

He blinked his eyes open to see he was in a dark corner of a curtained-off room, and Calum was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, fast asleep. It was quiet, though Michael could still hear the dull sounds coming from the ED, though he figured it had to be early Sunday morning, and maybe they’d had rush hour while he was asleep.

The curtain fluttered as someone walked past his room, and Michael yawned loudly, wincing as his shoulder pulled.

“You’re awake.”

Michael jumped, turning his head towards the right of his bed, completely missing the fact that his room was occupied by not only Calum, but _Luke_ , too.

“Sorry,” Luke said sheepishly. “I ducked in here about a half hour ago to check on you and you were still sleeping, so I’m just catching up on my charts.”

Michael nodded slowly, shifting the tiniest bit to get comfortable. He was wearing a hospital gown, and the blankets were pulled up to his chest, and they were warm and comforting. He was thirsty, and his memories since his fall were hazy.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Thick,” Michael answered softly. “Like I had the crap kicked out of me.”

Luke smiled and put his pile of charts on a table and stood up, approaching the bed to check the machine Michael was hooked up to. “Everything looks good,” he assured him softly. “Your blood pressure evened out, and your heart rate is strong.”

“Sounds good,” Michael murmured. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Luke nodded.

“What time is it?”

Luke grinned and raised his arm, checking the time on his watch. “Just after four on Sunday morning,” he told him.

“Shit,” Michael breathed around a yawn. “Long night.”

“You’re telling me.”

Michael smiled. “When’s your shift over?”

Luke pulled a small penlight out of his pockets, and shined it into Michael’s eyes. “Five.”

Michael blinked as stars burst in front of his eyes. “Long shift.”

“Five until five,” Luke nodded. “It goes quick.”

Michael arched his back off the hospital bed and sighed. “So do I still need the head scan thingie, or can I go home soon?”

“You’re still having the CT,” Luke informed him. “Radiology doesn’t open until six, so you’ll have to chill out down here until they’re ready for you.”

“Great,” Michael murmured.

Luke lingered by Michael’s bed side, and smiled when their eyes met. “Do you remember much after you got here?”

Michael frowned. “No?”

Luke chuckled. “You’re quite charming when you’re doped up on painkillers.”

So _that_ was the uneasy feeling Michael identified in the back of his mind. He felt like time was missing, like something had happened that he’d lost track of. But now Luke was telling him he possibly embarrassed himself, and Michael sighed.

“How bad?”

“Not too bad,” Luke insisted. “I mean, you were…cute. It was cute.”

“Cute is code for creepy,” Michael responded.

“It’s not,” Luke insisted, adjusting Michael’s sling. “You were sweet, it was kind of adorable, really.”

Michael felt embarrassment in the pit of his stomach, but it was eaten up by a different feeling. It was like a connection, that for whatever reason, Luke had decided to finish his charts in _Michael’s_ room, so did that _mean_ something?

“Can I get you anything?” Luke asked. “How’s your pain?”

“Your number,” Michael said quickly, blinking up at Luke. “Can you do that? Give your number to a patient? If not, that would suck.”

Luke smiled, his cheeks flushing pink and he looked away from Michael’s eyes. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh,” Michael mumbled, feeling kind of ridiculous for even assuming Luke was on the same wavelength. He was a nurse, and he was only doing his _job_ , and Michael really was stupid for developing a crush on him.

“I will though, on one condition,” Luke said.

Michael looked up at him, feeling hope bloom inside him. “And what’s that?”

Luke grinned. “You don’t show up at the hospital with any more injuries, okay?”

Michael laughed. “I can try, but as you can see, I’m fairly accident prone.”

“Then maybe you do need a nurse in your life,” Luke joked.

Michael smiled and closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

“Get some rest,” Luke advised, touching Michael’s hand.

“No, your number,” Michael murmured.

Luke chuckled. “I’ll write it down for you.”

Michael smiled, letting his eyes fall shut as he dropped off to sleep.

**

“Calum Thomas Hood, why didn’t you _call_ me?”

Michael jerked awake at the sound of his mother’s voice, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He could see her at the end of his bed, scolding Calum like only a mother could. Michael almost wanted to tease his best friend, but he was hard pressed to find the energy to do so.

“Mum,” he croaked out.

“Honey,” she sighed, turning her attention to him. “You didn’t think to call your mother when you ended up in hospital?”

“I did technically call you,” Calum interjected, stepping closer to Michael’s head.

“Ten hours after the fact doesn’t count, Calum,” Karen pointed out.

Calum frowned and stepped back, sinking down into his chair again.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Karen asked, turning her attention back to Michael.

He preened just a little bit from her attention, because she never failed to make him feel like the most important person in the room. He figured it was because he was an only child, and always genuinely preferred his parents’ company than hanging out with kids his own age.

His mother had been devastated when he’d moved out, and she only let him go under the condition that he call – a _lot_.

“Long story,” Michael sighed tiredly. “Lost a fight with a half pipe and ended up with gravel rash, stitches in my head and a sore shoulder.”

“They don’t admit people for a few stitches, honey.”

Michael smiled. “I had a fall when we got home, dislocated my shoulder.”

Karen sighed. “I worked the night shift last night, if I’d known you were here I’d have come down to be with you.”

Michael smiled gratefully, before he slowly started to remember Luke, and then he was _glad_ his mother had been in the dark. He never would’ve been able to flirt with Luke with her around.

“I read your chart, you’re waiting for at CT?”

Michael nodded, figuring that he was still waiting for the technicians to start. “The night nurse guy said I should have one just in case.”

“Oh, alright,” Karen commented. “You worried me.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael sighed. “I’ve just been so tired.”

“Then a CT is best,” Karen smiled, squeezing his forearm. “Mind if I wait with you?”

“Course not,” Michael murmured.

Karen sat down in the chair Luke had occupied, and hugged her purse on her lap. She was still in her work uniform, and she looked as tired as Michael felt. He knew while she loved her job, the long shifts weren’t the easiest to handle.

“Clifford, Michael?”

Michael turned his attention to the curtain to see a nurse. “That’s me.”

“I’m here to transport you for your CT scan.”

Michael nodded, trying to shift to get himself comfortable on the bed, but it was almost impossible. The pain medication must’ve been wearing off, because every ache and pain Michael had was slamming into him, full force.

“Who’s the operating technician on duty?” Karen asked.

The nurse raised a clipboard and flipped the page over. “Doctor Olga,” she supplied.

Karen stood. “Oh, I haven’t seen her in a while, I might go on ahead. You alright, sweetheart?”

Michael nodded even as he grit his teeth against the pain, and waited for his mother to leave the room before looking at Calum.

He smiled tiredly. “How’re you feeling?”

Michael made a face. “Like I need twenty litres of morphine pumped into me.”

Calum chuckled and stood as the nurse started to prep Michael’s bed for transportation.

Michael winced as the rail snapped into place and jostled his shoulder. “Did you, uh, see the nurse?”

Calum snorted. “I’ve seen a thousand. You’ll need to be more specific.” He paused, a slow grin curling onto his face. “Or are you talking about _Luke_?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Calum and made sure the nurse wasn’t paying attention. “He said he’d leave me his number. Did he give it to you?”

Calum pursed his lips. “Sorry, mate, he didn’t say anything to me. I went out for coffee and I didn’t see him again.”

Michael deflated, letting out a soft, dejected sigh. He couldn’t believe how brazen he’d been, and how Luke had been so sweet, and instead of shutting him down completely, had just sort of…lied his way out.

And while that was shitty, Michael was glad he hadn’t had to face the rejection head on.

“There’s always other nurses,” Calum offered.

Michael smiled at his positivity and felt his bed start to move.

**

By the time Michael was relegated to a wheelchair after his scan, he was _done_. It was somewhere near lunch time, and he hadn’t eaten all day, and his headache was insistent and pounding inside his skull and everything _hurt_.

He had no idea how long it would take to get his results, figuring after the first hour of waiting that he was seriously dying and the doctors were trying to come up with a nice way to tell him.

Hour two bought plain _anger_ , which his mother tried to deflect, but he wasn’t having it. He glared at each patient that entered the waiting room, and snarled at the ones who left before him.

He was never the best patient, even though he still had his drip in the back of his hand and a nice nurse had given him another shot of morphine at some point in time. Michael didn’t care, because while his shoulder didn’t ache quite as much, he was so completely tired that it didn’t matter.

Calum had left him, after postponing as many Monday morning appointments as he could, but Michael had told him to leave after his phone kept vibrating every five minutes, and only furthered the ache in Michael’s head.

His mother looked as tired as he did, though she was handling her exhaustion much better. She’d touch his hand every twenty minutes or so, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and would tell him _not too much longer now, sweetheart_.

It always made him feel ten times worse because he was such a shitty patient, and he knew that his mother had another shift that night, and sitting in the waiting room at the hospital she worked at couldn’t be fun.

By the time it was lunch time and the crowd in the waiting room was thinning out, Michael was certain he’d never see sunlight again. He’d napped on and off; ten minutes at time, or if he was lucky, twenty – and when the x-ray technician he’d met that morning approached him, Michael didn’t even bother lifting his eyes to meet hers.

She was openly apologetic, explaining that they’d had a car accident victim come through the ED, and then she said a bunch of medical terms Michael didn’t understand, so he tuned her out. His eyes were half-closed, and he tried to stifle a yawn before his wheelchair was jostled, and he looked up at his mother.

“We’re…leaving?”

She smiled. “You got the all clear,” she explained. “Doctor Olga is going to send a nurse to remove your drip.”

Michael felt excitement – and desperate hunger – jolt in his stomach, and he sat up a little straighter when a nurse approached and put on a pair of surgical gloves.

“A little sting,” she said softly, and tore the tape from the inside of Michael’s arm, which felt like it took twelve layers of skin, too. She placed her index finger over the needle port and withdrew it with her other hand, and placed a cotton ball over the needle spot. “Just hold for fifteen seconds,” she explained, guiding his hand over to do it himself.

Michael nodded, concentrating on holding the cotton ball there as his chair jerked again and his mother was turning to lead him out of the room. As they passed the administration desk, someone handed his mother a plastic bag of his things, and Michael could see his shoes, phone and wallet; items he wasn’t even aware he’d grabbed before he’d left in the ambulance early that morning.

He moved the cotton ball away from his arm after an extra few moments and took the packet from his mother, tearing into it to grab his shoes. There were no socks, but Michael wasn’t interested in walking barefoot through the carpark. He guided his right foot up to rest against his left knee an tried to put his shoe on one handed. He managed to get one on, but with his immobile right arm was useless.

He tried again, trying to push the toe of his shoe against a part of the wheelchair and managed to succeed in wiggling his foot into his sneaker. Getting the other shoe on would be even harder, but he tried the same principal, but as soon as he tried to get his foot in, the tongue of his shoe folded over.

He tugged it off with his left hand, and cradled the shoe against his sling and shoved his fingers inside to free the tongue, when his hands closed over something made of paper. He frowned, tugging the small square out to see a torn piece of notepaper.

He unfolded it one handed to see illegible handwriting, and a small logo for St Vincent’s Hospital. Michael peered at it, and felt his stomach bottom out when he made out a name, and a phone number.

_Luke 0411 125 451_

Michael fought against the urge to squeak out a noise of happiness, and pressed the piece of paper to his chest. Suddenly the pain in his shoulder didn’t hurt so bad, and the fact he was starving wasn’t as pressing. He had Luke’s phone number, and as his mother pushed his wheelchair through the lobby of the hospital, he couldn’t find a single thing to be annoyed at.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael let out a soft, frustrated whine and let his head tip back against the couch. His laptop was on his knees, a blank word document open on the screen. He had his feet up on the coffee table, and there was a light breeze washing over him through the living room window, and in a perfect world, he’d be happy.

There was nothing he loved more than writing just after lunch, filling his tummy with soul food, to then pour his soul out into his novel. It was a routine he’d established a few weeks ago, after a long period of writer’s block.

He had a deadline – and his agent was insistent and somewhat annoying when she reminded him about it 24/7 – and while he couldn’t force his thoughts, they’d been flowing well since just before his accident.

Which was probably where things fell apart.

It had been three days of pain and frustration. Michael couldn’t sleep, not after his GP had told him he had to wear his sling for a few weeks if his shoulder was going to heal without surgery, and that he’d need to go back to the hospital to meet with a physio to start some rehabilitation when his shoulder was given the all clear.

So Michael spent his days on the couch, doing all his proof reading and work in the morning, and would then sit down to whatever meal his mother had dropped off the night before, before the thoughts for his novel would start flowing, and then he spent the next few hours trying to type with his left hand, which would only get him to this point.

Pure frustration.

He eased his arm out of his sling, and gritted his teeth against the raw pain in his shoulder, and tried to type. He got a few lines out, but the pain wasn’t worth it, and as he heard the front door slam open, he tried desperately to get his arm back into his sling, but his haste was in vain.

“Jesus, the doctor said it won’t get better unless you keep it immobile,” Calum said flatly, entering the living room with two take away coffee cups.

“Trust you to come home during the fifteen seconds I had it out of my sling,” Michael muttered petulantly. “Do you know how hard it is to write a book when you can’t type?”

Calum rolled his eyes and dropped down on the couch heavily, and kicked his heavy work boots up onto the coffee table. Michael watched as bits of dirt and grass sprinkled over the wood.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” Michael muttered again.

“Which is why I bought you your favourite order from Zarraffa’s.”

Michael smiled slowly. “A caramel latte?”

“Yep,” Calum said, taking a sip from his cup. “Though I don’t think you deserve it.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for your mind games, Calum.”

Calum smirked. “Oh come on, let me have my fun.”

Michael glared at him, and tried tapping out another line of his novel.

“Jesus, you’re no fun,” Calum griped and leant over to put Michael’s coffee cup down on the table to his left.

“Yeah well, try and do _your_ job with your arm strapped to your chest.”

“Have you made your hospital appointment yet? Your mum keeps asking when she calls.”

“What’s she doing calling _you_?” Michael asked.

“Because _you_ lie to her,” Calum responded, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Did you come home to bust my balls?” Michael asked, his irritation evident. “Because you do that enough when you come home _after_ work.”

Calum leant over and ruffled Michael’s already messy hair. “I came home to bring you coffee and check up on you, and to tell you I might be late tonight.”

“Late? Why?”

“I’ve got a meeting with my accountant,” Calum explained.

“Your sister is your accountant,” Michael pointed out. “Why can’t you just say you’re hanging with Mali?”

“Because we’re not _hanging_ , my ass is toast if I don’t have all my business receipts together by tax time.”

“Well, how late?” Michael asked, picking up his coffee and took a slow, lengthy sip of the sugary sweet drink.

“Don’t wait up late,” Calum said, smiling apologetically. “I have to go into the city, and then back and Thursday night traffic is bullshit. But, I can call your mum to come check up on you.”

Michael shook his head and set his cup down. “No, don’t. This is her first shift off in two weeks and I don’t want her wasting it with me.”

Calum frowned. “You’re incapacitated. And I _know_ you can’t wipe your ass properly.”

Michael’s face burned and his mouth dropped open. “ _Excuse_ me? That’s just…that’s not…fuck you!”

Calum laughed, tipping his head back as his eyes crinkled. “C’mon, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Michael insisted. “It’s…it’s fucking _hard_ , okay?”

“I know,” Calum said, his laughter fading. “I’m sorry, okay? I can cancel with Mali if you want.”

“No, don’t,” Michael insisted. “It’s not like I have two broken legs. I can call mum if I need to, but I don’t want supervision. I’ll probably just watch Netflix in bed.”

Calum took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on Michael. “Are you sure?”

“If you ask me again, I’ll throw my coffee at you,” Michael said flatly.

Calum grinned. “As if you will. You’re like an addict with that stuff.”

Michael looked at his cup and could taste the sweetness in the back of his throat. “Then I’d throw my mouse.”

Calum snorted and moved his legs off the coffee table and stood up. “I’ll check in, okay? I’m hoping I’ll be back around nine. I have a late job this afternoon and I’ve got to stop in at Garden Way to see if the gardenia bulbs are in yet.”

Michael nodded, pretending to understand what Calum was talking about. He learnt his lesson quickly, after querying the different plants and trees Calum would mention, and that would almost always end up in a mini lesson of the various flora of Australia.

Michael didn’t _care_ , so he just stopped asking, but if Calum was excited about it, he’d talk about it anyway, and Michael had learned to be polite and let him waffle on.

“Okay, I’m off,” Calum announced, draining his coffee cup and put it down on the coffee table beside Michael’s plate from lunch. “Call me if you need _anything_ ,” he insisted.

“I will,” Michael said, waving him off. “Seriously, I’m not a child.”

“I disagree,” Calum shot back, rounding the couch. “You’re like my child, sometimes, one I never wanted.”

Michael rolled his eyes and flipped him off with his good hand, glad that the desperate sting of his palms had lessened somewhat over the past few days.

Calum leant down and dropped a kiss to the top of Michael’s head before he was gone, letting the front door thud shut as he went.

**

Michael was stubborn.

He was _not_ going to call Calum or his mother, no matter what happened. He could handle himself just fine, he was twenty-six years old and perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

Except, he wasn’t.

He knew it the moment the idea of a shower popped into his head. It was sometime after six, after he’d reheated the rest of the curried sausages he’d had for lunch, when he just aware of how gross he felt.

He wanted an early night under the covers to maybe catch up on episodes of _The Walking Dead_ but he didn’t want to crawl between the sheets feeling dirty, but he wasn’t that confident about showering alone.

Calum was always there to help him out of his sling, and into the waterproof one his mother had bought. It was plastic, and still held his arm firm against his shoulder so he could shower, but he knew he couldn’t put it on himself.

But he wanted to feel normal, and he hated how his independence had been taken away from him since the accident.

So he decided to go for it, figuring that it couldn’t be too hard to shower without his sling, he’d just keep his arm really, _really_ still.

And it was all going to plan as Michael stood under the hot water, being careful to keep his right arm immobile. And it was working, for the most part, he’d become quite good at washing his hair with his left hand, and running the bar of soap across all the places he could reach.

But he knew the success would be short lived as the soap dropped from his hand, and his right hand reached out instinctively to catch it.

The pain in his shoulder felt like fire, and he cried out loudly, pulling his arm back in against his chest and cradled it with his left hand. He could feet hot tears rush down his cheeks, mixing with the water from the shower.

He was trembling as the pain washed over him again and again, and he stood stock still as he panted through it, and when Michael managed to grasp onto reality once more, he shut the shower off and stepped out onto the bathmat, grabbing for his towel.

It took forever to dry himself, his right arm against his chest. He didn’t dare move any faster than a snail’s pace, and by the time he was dry, Michael’s fingers were shaking. He pulled on boxer shorts with his left hand, and guided his good arm into a button down shirt.

It was an old one of Calum’s, and it was the least painful shirt option since the accident. But having to move his right arm off his chest just a few inches to get it on hurt, and Michael was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he couldn’t do this on his own.

He’d pulled his shoulder, he could feel the ache deep in his bones, and he knew calling his mother and telling her would lead to a lecture, and a very frantic drive to his place, and he couldn’t ring Calum either, there was no point. He would be halfway into the city at this point, and he’d only fret as much as Michael’s mother.

An ambulance was too much, but doing nothing wasn’t an option either.

And as Michael stood in his bathroom, his arm against his chest and tears still in his eyes, he remembered Luke.

The nurse he hadn’t had the guts to call, the guy Michael was _scared_ to text.

But Michael knew he had no other option. At the least, Luke could maybe give him some medical advice, if he answered the text at all. So Michael limped out into the living room – because now his shoulder was in pain, _everything_ hurt – and grabbed his phone and sank down onto the couch.

His fingers were shaking, and learning to text left handed was a gamble, but he found Luke’s number in his phone – saved as Nurse Luke with a heart eyes emoji – and started to type.

**[Sent: 06:52PM]** _Hey it’s Michael_

Michael cringed as he pressed send, contemplating slamming his phone into his face at the lame text as it went through, and he was mortified that _that_ was going to be the first text Luke ever received from him.

Even through the extreme pain he was in, he couldn’t have followed it up with a smiling emoji? Maybe put something in there about meeting Luke in the ED? Or something helpful like his _last name_?

Michael was a moron.

He wished he could take it back, somehow erase the text from existence, because even if Michael ever planned to ask Luke out, he couldn’t now. Not after the first text was so boring, so plain, so _pedestrian_ –

**[Received 06:58PM]** _After 3 days that’s all I get? : -)_

Michael choked, pressing his phone against his cheek and crushed his eyes shut and _whined_.

Of course Luke answered.

Michael knew that was the goal, because he was still in immense pain, but there was a part of him that hoped he wouldn’t, that he wouldn’t have to do the grown up thing and actually communicate with him.

**[Received 07:03PM]** _Thought I’d hear from u by now_

Michael sighed and juggled his phone in his left hand and tapped out a reply.

**[Sent 07:08PM]** _im sorry been a little busy with a shoulder injury_

**[Received 07:10PM]** _That old excuse : -)_

**[Sent 07:15PM]** _I wanted to txt to ask u out_

Michael sighed and pressed SEND, figuring that if he hoped to get Luke’s advice, he’d better be honest.

**[Received 07:19PM]** _I was expecting 2 be asked out : -)_

Michael laughed softly, and felt warmth bloom in his chest.

**[Sent 07:21PM]** _Gotta be honest I think I fucked my shoulder_

Michael sighed and watched as the screen of his phone went black after a few moments, and he wondered if Luke would even respond. Would he be ticked off Michael was just using him for medical advice? Would it ruin his chances?

Michael was lost in his negative thoughts when his phone started to suddenly ring – blaring an All Time Low song – and he almost dropped it in his haste to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Fucked your shoulder how?”

Michael laughed softly at the sound of Luke’s warm, concerned voice. “I took a shower,” he admitted. “And my roommate isn’t here, so I didn’t wear my sling and I just…I dropped the soap.”

Luke snorted. “Is that a euphemism?”

“No,” Michael intoned. “It means I dropped it out of my left hand and tried to grab it with my right and I think my arm is going to fall off.”

“You might have torn your rotator cuff,” Luke guessed.

Michael sighed. “You have to speak civilian, okay?”

Luke laughed softly. “The muscle that holds your shoulder in place? You probably tore it completely.”

Michael sighed again and tipped his head back on the couch. “Great. Like this injury wasn’t fun enough before.”

“What’s your address?”

Michael frowned. “Why? Are you calling an ambulance?”

“No, I’m coming over,” Luke said.

Michael sat up straight, looking towards his front door as if Luke was going to burst through it. He panicked just a little bit, and let out a soft, distressed noise. “Aren’t you at work?”

“You caught me on my one night off,” Luke said, and something rustled in the background. “I’m offering free medical advice, so are you interested?”

“Oh I’m interested,” Michael insisted smugly, and listened to Luke laugh. “I’m in Richmond,” Michael explained. “7 March Street.”

“Okay,” Luke murmured. “I’m in Windsor, so I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

“Luke, you don’t have to,” Michael said quickly. “I just text you for your advice, and I hate it, because I do want to ask you out but –“

“Michael, stop,” Luke interrupted. “It’s fine, okay? At least you text, I was beginning to think my number had fallen out of your shoe.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael stressed. “I just happened to meet you at a very stressful time in my life.”

Luke laughed softly. “I’ve noticed.” He paused. “I really don’t mind coming over, it breaks up my boring evening of watching TV and trying not to fall asleep on the couch.”

“Oh, um…okay,” Michael relented softly. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Luke assured him. “I’m going to hang up now, and I’ll see you soon.”

Michael didn’t get a chance to say much else before he was listening to the dial tone, and then his stomach started doing somersaults.

**

“Hey.”

Michael smiled tightly, his right arm immobile against his chest, his button down shirt hanging off his shoulder.

Luke looked impossibly beautiful, in tight black jeans and a navy blue t-shirt, his blonde hair kind of wild on top of his head. He smiled – and Michael swooned – and opened the screen door.

“You look miserable,” he commented, stepping inside when Michael made room. “Maybe we should go straight to the hospital?”

Michael sighed tiredly, feeling exhausted at just the thought. “I’m in safe hands with you, right?”

Luke smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Something like that.”

Michael grinned and shut the front door, and followed Luke further into the house to see him set a bag down Michael hadn’t noticed he’d been carrying.

“Alright, sit,” Luke instructed, sitting on the coffee table.

Michael rounded the couch and sat in front of him, wincing as his shoulder shifted.

Luke frowned, clearly in nurse mode, and reached out to unbutton Michael’s shirt.

“Really? This isn’t even our first date,” Michael murmured with a smirk on his face.

Luke smiled but narrowed his eyes at Michael, moving the fabric aside. “This is gonna hurt,” he mumbled.

Before Michael had the chance to ask _what_ would hurt, Luke was pressing his fingers against the sorest part of his shoulder and he gasped. “Oh Jesus Christ,” he panted, screwing his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled, leaning forward to cup his fingers around the aching joint. “Just a few more moments.”

Michael nodded but kept his eyes shut, his fists balled so tightly his nails were digging into the healing flesh of his palms.

“Without an x-ray I can only assume you’ve torn your rotator cuff,” Luke said softly, removing his hands from Michael’s skin. “You’ll need a scan and maybe even surgery.”

“Great,” Michael whispered, his breath still coming thick and fast because of the pain.

Luke put his hand on Michael’s knee and squeezed. “I’ll take you to St Vincent’s, if you want?”

Michael shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll get Calum to take me when he gets home.”

“It’s almost eight,” Luke pointed out, his hand still on Michael’s knee. “I’ll be able to get you through quicker if I take you.”

Michael opened his eyes and lifted his head to see the concern in Luke’s eyes. “I really appreciate this,” he told him. “I don’t know if you’ll actually want to go on a date with me considering I’m falling to pieces, but I’d love to take you out. When I can actually function, that is.”

Luke smiled. “Then call this date one,” he offered. “And let me take you to the hospital. The longer you wait, the more pain you’ll be in, and the more risk you’ll face if the muscle tear tries to heal itself.”

Michael sat up, letting out a tired sigh. “Are you sure?”

Luke laughed softly. “The RN part of my job title means I am.”

“What does that even stand for?” Michael asked, a frown on his face.

“Registered nurse,” Luke supplied. “I’m a little more special than the other nurses.”

“Ooh, vicious,” Michael teased softly. “Be careful or I’ll tell them.”

“Does that mean you’re going to let me take you to the hospital?”

Michael sighed and made a face, but nodded reluctantly. “If you think I should go, then we’ll go.”

Luke smiled, pleased with himself and dug into the small bag sitting beside him on the coffee table. “Just let me take your blood pressure.”

“You carry one of those around?”

“It comes in handy,” Luke pointed out, fitting the cuff around Michael’s left arm. “Case in point, right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael mumbled, and tried to relax as Luke velcroed the cuff around his bicep.

They fell silent as Luke got a stethoscope out of his bag and pressed the round disk against the inside of Michael’s elbow, and he started to pump it up manually. It hurt, the tightness around Michael’s arm making him wince and he let out a soft, tired sigh.

“Your BP is good,” Luke murmured after a few moments. “And you can have as much morphine as you want once we get to the hospital.”

“Those words are magic to my ears,” Michael sighed.

Luke took the blood pressure cuff off and packed his belongings back into his bag. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed and lifted his head. “I just can’t believe that skateboarding fucked me up this bad.”

Luke patted his knee gently. “It’s still not the dumbest injury I’ve seen,” he told him softly. “But we should go, okay?”

Michael nodded, and let Luke help him up off the couch, and he grit his teeth against the pain. He felt like passing out, like maybe he wouldn’t make it to the hospital without falling to pieces. Luke maybe sensed his weak knees, because Michael felt a hand against his hip, and he leant into Luke, reassured that he wouldn’t fall.

“Don’t normally have to take my dates to hospital,” Luke practically whispered.

Michael chuckled and then groaned, pain ripping through his shoulder. “You just meet them there, right?”

Luke laughed, and Michael managed to feel a tiny bit better.

**

“Hello? Oh, I’m sorry. This is Luke. Yes, I’m with Michael.”

Michael groaned softly, and blinked his eyes open to the sound of Luke’s voice, and once his hazy eyes cleared, Michael could see Luke with a phone in his hand – _Michael’s_ phone – and was talking softly into it.

Michael was doped up on painkillers, and nothing hurt anymore, and he was endlessly grateful. The IV port in the back of his left hand pulled when he flexed his fingers, finding that he was in a hospital gown with his right arm in a sling, and blood pressure cuff around his left arm.

It was a position he was familiar with, the hospital not feeling as foreign as it had the first time he’d been there. It was almost comforting, the soft beeping of machines and the far off din of a busy reception area.

He was warm underneath the hospital blankets, and he had a soft smile on his face as he watched Luke.

“I’m his nurse,” Luke said softly, his back to Michael. “No, he had another incident at home and I suggested he present to the ED.” Pause. “Mhm, he’s had an initial work up done by the on call RN, and he’s awaiting a consultation from an orthopaedic surgeon.”

Michael sighed, figuring that he was destined for surgery. The pain in his shoulder was too sharp to need anything but, and he was starting to just accept it. There was no point in fighting it, Michael had to admit defeat.

“I’ll make sure he calls you when he’s awake, Mrs Clifford. Mhm, yes, you too.”

“Is she losing it?” Michael asked softly as Luke hung up his phone.

The nurse jumped, turning around to set his eyes on Michael. “Warn a guy, will you?”

Michael smiled tiredly. “Is she okay?”

Luke nodded and approached the bed, moving to withdraw a penlight from his breast pocket only to come up empty. He smiled ruefully and perched on the edge of Michael’s bed. “She’s worried, but I promised her you were okay.”

Michael nodded. “What time is it? What’s going on?”

“It’s eleven,” Luke told him. “You had an MRI and you’ve torn your rotator cuff. I’m waiting on Doctor Opperman to confirm what I think, that you’ll need keyhole surgery to repair the tear.”

“You should go home,” Michael murmured. “You’re not even supposed to work tonight.”

“You asked me to stay.”

Michael blinked up at him. “I…what?”

Luke smiled. “A few hours ago, before the morphine really kicked in. You asked me to stay.”

“Oh,” Michael said softly.

They fell silent, Luke’s fingertips stroking over Michael’s hand. “I don’t mind,” he insisted quietly. “This is pretty big.”

Michael nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “But you have to work at some point, right?”

“Not until seven tomorrow night,” Luke explained. “I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Why?” Michael asked. “I mean, why _me_? You have thousands of patients.”

“You hit on me,” Luke smiled. “You asked for my number and I liked you, so I gave it to you.”

Michael felt his heart stutter in his chest and he sighed. “At least if we end up married, this is some story to tell the grandkids.”

Luke laughed and patted Michael’s knee through his blankets. “Let’s get our first date over with first, okay?”

“I might go back to sleep,” Michael murmured.

“Good idea,” Luke advised. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Michael nodded, and let sleep drag him under once more.


	4. Chapter 4

“So you’re married now?”

Michael scoffed and snatched the coffee cup Calum held in his right hand, and took a lengthy sip. “I don’t _know_ ,” he answered once he handed the cup back, a frown on his face. “All I know is that he came over last night and took care of me and stayed when I asked him to and I’m pretty sure he held my hand for at _least_ an hour,” he rambled.

Calum threw a look over his shoulder and then leant in to Michael. “I think you’re married, man.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Why do I feel like Luke’s been in my life for forever? Like, it’s twilight zone kind of shit.”

Calum crossed his legs at the ankles and nudged his toe against the bed rail. He’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, in between jobs with his clients, to bring Michael some real food. He technically wasn’t supposed to eat, but the orthopaedic surgeon didn’t think he’d be able to fit Michael’s shoulder surgery into his busy day, which meant Michael was stuck in his hospital bed until the next day, at the least.

But Calum was there, and he’d bought McDonalds, and had been there since Michael woke up, thinking of Luke and wondering where he went. He recounted his night with the nurse, and watched as Calum’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline when he knew the full story, of just how goddamn _weird_ it was for Michael to feel whatever he felt for a guy he barely knew.

“Do you think he likes you?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “Which is confusing, because I’m literally helpless.” He snorted. “What if he’s one of those weirdos with a hurt/comfort kink and I’m like, hitting the jackpot for him?”

“Then at least he’s interested!” Calum pointed out. “Jeez, Mikey. Thank your lucky stars the dude is weird.”

Michael smiled. “It just feels weird, like I’ve met him before, or in another life.”

“That _is_ weird,” Calum agreed, taking a sip from his coffee cup. “But I admire the guy for sticking with you for the last twelve hours.”

Michael had remembered falling asleep holding Luke’s hand, and wasn’t sure where he was. He woke up when Calum arrived, and had been almost disappointed to see his best friend, instead of Luke, perched on the side of his bed and looking at him with concerned eyes.

“I think I love him,” Michael sighed.

Calum laughed. “The universe is fucking with both of us,” he grinned. “At least you have a shot with Luke, Ashton couldn’t be further out of my league.”

“It’ll happen,” Michael said tiredly. “If I get Luke, you get Ash.”

“We’ll see,” Calum mumbled. “Do you want me to go? You’re falling asleep?”

Michael forced his eyes opened and smiled apologetically at his friend. “You don’t have to stay, go do work. Do Ashton.”

Calum snorted and stood up, pushing Michael’s tray table away. “Get some sleep, okay? And tell your husband I say hey.”

Michael flapped his hand through the air as his eyes drooped shut and he fell into unconsciousness again.

**

Michael swallowed around the fear lodged in his throat, trying not to move too much where he sat by his hospital window, where the sun had dipped low behind the horizon in the distance. He was trying not to think about what was ahead of him, that a stupid, five second decision to get on a skateboard had affected him so much, that he was facing surgery and rehabilitation and possibly _months_ of inactivity on his novel.

It was hitting hard and below the belt, and he’d ignored a call from his agent already, unsure how to explain to her that his deadline that was fast approaching, and that there was no way he was going to reach it.

He sighed, trying to relax back into the oversized recliner chair he’d had his nurse help him move to, his shoulder heavily strapped and a sling across his chest that held his arm so tight Michael found it hard to breathe.

And after the day of sleep he’d had, he was wired, now, his head spinning with the knowledge of his surgery the following day, after the surgeon had come in and shown him his MRI films, and the three centimetre tear in his rotator cuff.

All of a sudden his injuries weren’t minor inconveniences he could forget about, they were big , life changing ones.

His mother had called in on her way to the maternity ward to start her shift, and she’d patiently and simply explained his injury in layman’s terms that Michael didn’t really listen to, because although he appreciated her effort, he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

Because he could tell she was withholding her motherly scolding, to point out just how stupid he’d been getting on a skateboard in the first place. He didn’t need to hear it, and he was glad she hadn’t said it, but he knew it would come, eventually.

“Knock, knock?”

Michael turned his head towards the doorway to his private room and managed a small smile when he saw Luke, dressed in his navy blue scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck. “Hey.”

Luke entered the room, nudging the door half-shut, and approached Michael, setting his pile of charts down on his tray table. “How’re you feeling?”

“Miserable,” Michael laughed quietly, letting out a tired sigh. “How are you?”

“Good,” Luke smiled, pulling a chair over to sit opposite Michael. “I took a peek at your chart earlier. If you have any questions…”

Michael nodded. “Thanks, but mum has walked me through it, and the doctor was pretty good, too. Now I just have to wait until tomorrow.”

Luke smiled sympathetically. “Anything I can do?”

Michael looked up at his IV pole and shook his head. “My nurse pushed more morphine twenty minutes ago, but if you have a pill to quiet my thoughts, that’d be great.”

“Sorry,” Luke said sheepishly. “Though, I could organize an enema?”

Michael let out a sharp bark of laughter and winced as it jostled his shoulder. “Jesus, ouch. Your jokes are painful.”

Luke snorted softly. “I wasn’t lying, you know.”

Michael smiled and leant back in his seat. “Don’t you have lives to save in the ED?”

“It’s slow,” Luke responded. “When I found out they’d moved you to the ward, I thought I’d come check in. I’m sorry I had to bail so early.”

“Don’t be,” Michael said, shaking his head. “The fact you stayed until you did was amazing.”

“I might come back, during my lunch hour?”

“If you want,” Michael smiled. “But don’t you sleep during your break?”

“Sometimes,” Luke nodded. “But I did sleep all afternoon before my shift, so I’m okay. And things are quiet downstairs.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be up all night, so if you want, I wouldn’t say no to another visit.”

“Consider it done, then,” Luke smiled. “Try and get some rest, okay? I know it’s not easy to do in hospital, but it’s your only option.”

Michael didn’t know why, but despite hearing those words over and over again, it never sounded redundant, coming from Luke. When his mother said it, it was annoying, when the shift change happened an hour ago and Michael was lumped with an overly enthusiastic nurse, it damn near made him grind his teeth, but hearing the same words from Luke, felt like he was hearing it for the first time.

“You okay?”

“Let’s have dinner,” Michael said quickly. “When you come back, let’s have dinner.”

Luke smiled. “It’s almost eleven at night, and as far as I know, there’s no midnight snack option from the cafeteria.”

Michael looked over at the drawers beside his bed to see his wallet lying on top. “Take twenty bucks from my wallet and buy us dinner out of a vending machine,” he smiled. “I’m paying for our first date.”

Luke’s cheeks coloured just the slightest amount, and he laughed. “You’re serious?”

“I’m not getting out of here anytime soon,” Michael pointed out. “And taking you to dinner will have to wait until I can drive again, and that might be _months_ away. So yeah, I’m serious. Have dinner with me.”

Luke smiled. “Okay,” he nodded. “It’s a date.”

Michael smiled, pleased with his quick thinking, and watched as Luke stood. “But, wait,” he said suddenly. “What’s your last name?”

Luke moved the chair he’d been sitting in back into the corner and he laughed. “Hemmings,” he supplied. “Luke Hemmings.”

Michael extended his left hand awkwardly, trying not to move too much. “Nice to meet you, I’m Michael Clifford.”

Luke reached out and squeezed Michael’s hand, running his thumb over the back of his hand. “Extremely pleased to meet you,” he said sincerely.

Michael squeezed Luke’s hand, and tugged on it for just a second before he let it go. “Pick you up at eight?”

Luke laughed. “Oh God, you’re so corny.”

“You keep coming back, though,” Michael pointed out.

Luke grinned and picked up his charts and headed for the door. “I guess there’s something about you I like, Michael Clifford.”

Michael was about to respond with something witty, but before he could open his mouth, Luke was gone.

**

“Alrighty, nice and slow.”

Michael gritted his teeth and tried not to snap at the nurse who was currently keeping him from falling to the floor. He knew he needed her, even though she annoyed the living hell out of him. But he finally understood that he couldn’t trust himself when it came down to doing _anything_ on his own, which meant he was reluctantly pressing his call button when he wanted to get back into bed.

Despite the nurse’s help, everything still _hurt_ , but it was becoming something he was getting used to, which should probably be an alarming fact, but Michael was too preoccupied with thoughts of Luke, that he didn’t really focus on it.

Because it was almost two in the morning, and Michael was starting to feel tired, but he was hanging his hopes on seeing Luke again, and he didn’t want to have to depend on the man to get him into bed, though Michael hoped that one day – when he wasn’t injured – he could get _Luke_ into bed, _his_ bed, for something other than rest.

“Alrighty,” the nurse repeated, one of her hands on Michael’s hip, the other supporting his shoulders. “Just sit slowly on the edge and I’ll help with your legs.”

Michael did, letting out a soft sigh as his ass met the mattress, and he tugged his hospital gown down further and let the nurse take hold of his ankles and slowly slid them in under the covers.

He let out a sigh of relief when he was tucked back into bed, pulling the covers up to his waist with his left hand and sank back against his pillows.

“How’s your pain level?” the nurse asked, lowering the triangle shaped hand hold in case Michael needed to lift himself up at all.

“I’m okay,” Michael responded. “The morphine is making me nauseous.”

“I can push some maxolon,” the nurse commented. “Or I can give you an oral painkiller instead of morphine.”

“Can I have both?” Michael asked tiredly, contemplating just closing his eyes for a moment or two.

“Sure,” the nurse agreed, pulling his chart out of the holder at the end of his bed and opened it, making a few notations. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael nodded and let out a sigh and slowly wiggled the fingers of his right hand. It hurt, mostly because of the disuse, and he wondered if it was possible for his fingers to fall off if he didn’t use them over a long period of time.

He had decided to ask the nurse when he heard her re-enter the room, and he cracked his eyes open.

“I’ve got two panadiene fort,” she announced, handing him a small cup with two white pills inside. “I’ll also push maxolon via your drip.”

Michael took the small dish and tipped the pills onto his tongue, taking the offered cup of water to wash them down. He let out a sigh as he swallowed, and the nurse busied herself with his IV port. He felt the cool rush of fluid into his veins, and watched as the nurse made a few more notes on his chart before leaving his room.

He took a few slow breaths and tried to stay awake, and when he heard the sound of shoes squeaking on vinyl, he opened his eyes to see Luke.

“You should get some sleep,” he said softly, entering the room and shut the door after him, his arms laden with vending machine snacks.

“I want to take you to dinner,” Michael murmured.

Luke laughed softly and sat down on the edge of Michael’s bed and tugged his tray table over to set the snacks down. “Have you had any sleep since I saw you last?”

“About forty-five minutes in the chair,” Michael told him. “I’m feeling nauseous.”

“That’s the morphine,” Luke explained, and reached over to grab Michael’s chart. “Oh, the maxolon will help,” he commented.

Michael nodded. “What’s for dinner?”

Luke put his chart back and turned back towards the snacks. “I got chips,” he explained. “And a few chocolate bars and M & M’s.”

“Well, we can’t have dessert before the main meal,” Michael pointed out with a soft smile.

Luke grinned. “I suppose that’s true.” He reached out to grab one of the packs of chips – sweet chilli and sour cream – and opened the packet, splitting it down the edge into something resembling a plate, and then grabbed the carafe of water on the table and poured two cups.

“How’s your night going?”

“Slow,” Luke smiled, pushing a cup of water in Michael’s direction. “We have an RN visiting from another hospital, and I left the ED in her capable hands.”

Michael reached out for a few chips and put them into his mouth, even though he felt sick. “Well I’m glad for that.”

Luke smiled and picked up his cup and took a sip. “So, I feel like you know an awful lot about me, and I know next to nothing about you. Apart from your blood type and the fact you like bright, graphic underwear.”

Michael laughed softly. “I’m a writer,” he explained. “Well, I’m a proof reader, that pays the bills. But I have a book deal, and I’m writing my first novel.”

Luke picked up a few chips and nibbled on them, raising his brows. “A writer, huh? What kind of book are you writing?”

Michael smiled. “It’s like a young adult novel, I think? It’s kind of taking a lot of different twists and turns.”

“So what’s it about?”

Michael flushed softly, unsure if he wanted to share his idea in fear of mockery. “It’s, like.” He paused. “It’s called _Jet Black Heart_ , and there’s the protagonist – his name is Jet – and he’s like, cursed with this _thing_ , that he can’t fall in love. His heart is slowly going black, and if he falls in love, it speeds up the process. And the more times he falls in love, the faster it will happen until he eventually dies.”

Luke frowned, picking up his cup to take a sip of water. “That’s…bleak.”

Michael smiled, somewhat bashful. “I have a plan for a series, maybe three books. The first one is about Jet, how he was raised knowing of his condition, and how there was no love in his life. His parents loved him, but never hesitated to remind him that he could never fall in love. Then book two will focus on the second character – who doesn’t have a name yet – and the story of the two of them handling Jet’s condition in their own way, and then the third book will be about, well. I can’t tell you. Spoiler alert and all that.”

Luke laughed softly and ripped open the packet of M & M’s and popped a few in his mouth. “It sounds incredibly complex,” he said, curling one leg up underneath himself. “Your brain is an interesting place.”

Michael laughed and took a few M & M’s for himself, popping a blue one into his mouth. “I’ve had the idea for like, ten years,” he admitted. “I never thought it would ever see the light of day, but my mum read a draft of the first four chapters I’d written – by hand, I might add – and she told me I should contact a publisher.”

“Well, if your mum gives the nod of approval.”

Michael smiled. “I typed it all out, and mailed it to five publishers and heard from none of them, until after a few months when I got a letter in the mail from an agent. She works for a publishing company, and her job is to literally read books, and pass on the good ones to her boss. She met with me, critiqued what I had so far, and once she was happy, she passed it along and her boss was interested.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” Luke grinned. “I’d be really interested in reading it. Maybe I’ll even get you to sign my copy.”

Michael snorted. “Do you really think it’s going to be finished now I’ve lost the use of my right arm?” he asked, trying to keep the bitterness buried deep beneath his words.

Luke smiled sympathetically. “It’s temporary,” he reminded him softly. “Do you have a deadline?”

Michael smiled ruefully and popped a few more M & M’s into his mouth. “My first draft for the first book is due in two months.”

“Oh,” Luke said softly. “How much more do you have to do?”

Michael sighed and sank back into his pillows. He tried not to think about it, didn’t want the feeling of hopelessness to crush his first date with Luke. “There’s twenty-two chapters, and I’ve done twelve.”

Luke stayed quiet, helping himself to more chocolate.

“It’s okay,” Michael insisted softly, though it was weak. “Calum joked about getting me one of those talk-to-text things. But then he said he’d be too freaked out to wake up in the middle of the night hearing me talking to my laptop.”

Luke laughed softly. “At least it’s an option?”

“True,” Michael smiled. “But what about you, huh? What do you get up to when you’re not here?”

Luke nudged the tray table away, and kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on Michael’s bed, nudging against his side. “When I’m not here, I sleep,” he started, letting out a soft laugh. “I live with a roommate, who I’ve known since we were kids. And, uh I, uh. I have a son?”

Michael blinked slowly, his eyes on Luke’s face, and tried to discern if what he’d heard, was what Luke had actually said.

“I know,” Luke said quickly, his toes wiggling. “He’s, uh. He’s five,” he explained nervously. “When I was twenty-one, and still questioning my sexuality, I just, uh…”

Michael reached out and put his hand on Luke’s knee, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he offered quietly. “I’m not going to force you to tell me anything.”

Luke swallowed and nodded his head. “No, it’s okay. It’s kind of a weird situation, because I’m gay, obviously. I have two older brothers, and they were typical, you know? Gay jokes, using faggot as a term of endearment, all of that. It was hard to even _think_ about coming out back then, and they kept pushing me, why I hadn’t had sex. So I panicked, and I just…had sex.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “I slept with one of my older brother’s friends and it was awful.” He laughed ruefully. “She was so sweet to me, and even asked me after we were done if I was gay. I remember having a panic attack and begging her not to tell my brothers.”

It was a lot of information to take in, and Michael had to admit he hadn’t expected a curve ball like a _child_ to come to light, but Luke was sincere, and bashful and Michael wanted to kiss him.

“When she told me she was pregnant, I was just kind of calm. Because I’d made the decision that I was gay, and I decided that it was time to grow up, so I told my family, and they were so supportive, but when she told me, I was…happy.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked softly. “That’s good, right?”

Luke nodded. “It was so complicated and messy, because she was literally one of Ben’s – he’s my eldest brother – one of his best friends. It was awkward for him, of course, and it made things between us a little stressed for a while, but when Noah was born, he came around.”

“Noah?” Michael repeated softly. “That’s a great name.”

Luke laughed. “Yeah, it is. Noah Robert Hemmings. He’s the best.”

Michael felt out of his depth, because the closest he’d ever come to being around kids were his cousins, but kids had always liked him, even if he wasn’t sure what to do with them most of the time.

“Do you want to see a picture?”

Michael nodded, reaching for his cup to take another sip as Luke pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“This is my little guy,” Luke said, handing the phone over.

Michael couldn’t help but grin at the picture of the bright smile that stared back at him, and the shock of blonde hair and ocean blue eyes that were almost identical to Luke’s. “He’s so handsome.”

Luke chuckled. “He is. He’s the first grandchild, too, so he’s spoilt to hell and back.”

Michael accidentally swiped the screen of Luke’s phone, and the next picture was of Luke and Noah, with Noah on Luke’s back, with his arms around his neck. They were laughing, their smiles so bright and their eyes dancing with happiness, and it made something in Michael’s chest ache.

“That was from his birthday,” Luke said, as Michael handed the phone back. “He had a dinosaur party.”

“Do you get to see him often?”

The smile dropped from Luke’s face so quickly that Michael wasn’t sure of what he’d said wrong.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

Luke winced, and shook his head gently. “No, it’s fine. I have him full time.”

“Oh.”

Luke swallowed, and picked up his cup to take a sip of water. “Kate, his mum. She was in a car accident last year, and she’s a quadriplegic now, and she lives in a facility with round the clock care.”

Michael winced, feeling instantly sick as Luke spoke, and tried to imagine just how painful that must’ve been. “I’m so sorry.”

Luke managed a tight, uncomfortable smile. “He’d just turned four at the time, and I used to see him on the weekends, and I had him every Wednesday, but once Kate had her accident, I took him full time.”

“That must’ve been so hard,” Michael said softly. “To not only have to deal with her accident, but having Noah full time.”

“Hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Luke said sagely. “Especially when I was almost at the end of my bachelor’s degree, and he had such a hard time transitioning. If it wasn’t for my roommate and my family, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it.”

“So where is he, when you’re here?”

“At home, with my roommate. He’s incredibly good with kids, and Noah loves him. So he goes to day care three days a week, and spends two days with me, and when I can’t be there, my mum helps out, and so does Kate’s mum.”

Michael felt like all the breath had rushed out of his lungs, and he didn’t know what to say. There’s nothing he _could_ say to offer solace after all Luke had been through. He couldn’t imagine being responsible for a child, especially one he never thought would happen.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said softly, filling the silence between them. “Did I totally drag the mood of our date down?”

“No,” Michael smiled. “I mean, it was a curve ball, but the whole point of a date is to get to know the person you’re with.”

Luke smiled. “That’s true. But I literally dropped the kid bomb on you. I’d understand if that changes things.”

“No,” Michael said quickly. “I mean, it _does_ , but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to get to know you.”

“I’ve barely dated anyone since he was born,” Luke admitted. “The whole, slept-with-a-woman thing throws people, and then when I add on Noah…it’s a lot to deal with.”

“I’ll say,” Michael smiled. “But I still want…I’m still interested.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed and he reached for a Kit Kat, peeling open the wrapper. He snapped off a piece and offered it to Michael.

“Thanks.”

Luke took a piece for himself and took a bite.

“Does he get to see her often?” Michael asked softly.

“Not really,” Luke answered. “She’s not his mum anymore, not what he remembers, anyway. He doesn’t understand that she can’t hug him, or play with him or get out of bed. And it stresses her out when he gets upset that she can’t do what he wants her to do.”

“God,” Michael whispered. “I can’t imagine…”

“Yeah,” Luke murmured. “We go once a month, or whenever Kate asks to see him. I don’t want him to forget her, but I don’t want to put both of them through the rigmarole, either.”

“I mean, when he’s older he can understand more.”

Luke nodded. “Exactly. He’s so young and doesn’t understand the limitations, and what it means that she can’t move.”

Michael picked up a few more M & M’s, and rolled them in his hand. “Last night, when you came over…did you have to leave him at home?”

“He was in bed,” Luke smiled. “And my roommate was home, and sometimes I think Noah prefers Ash over me, so it was okay.”

Michael watched Luke, and could see the tension and melancholy, and he reached out for his hand.

Luke hesitated for a moment before curling his fingers around Michael’s. “Thanks.”

Michael felt entirely out of his depth, and he knew that whatever he was starting with Luke was only further complicated by the presence of his kid, but Michael couldn’t deny the pull between them.

“I have zero experience with this stuff,” he said softly. “And I’m probably the last person anyone would go to for parenting advice, but I’m like…here.”

Luke smiled, drawing a slow circle on Michael’s palm. “Thank you. Noah is such a big part of my life, and most of the time I feel like I’m doing a shitty job at taking care of him.”

“I bet you’re a great dad,” Michael smiled.

Luke chuckled softly and pulled his hand away, rubbing his palms down the thighs of his scrubs. “So, how’re you feeling?”

Michael tipped his head back on his pillow and let out a sigh. “I’m alright.”

“I should take your stitches out while I’m here.”

Michael lifted his head and raised his eyebrows, and it reminded him that there were still five stitches holding his right one together. “I’m like that board game,” he sighed. “Y’know, Operation?”

Luke laughed, getting up out of his seat to approach the hand washing station to grab a pair of gloves. “I always like my men to be helpless.”

“I’m not helpless!” Michael demanded. “I mean, I _am_ , but it’s situational.”

Luke smiled. “It’s okay, once you’re all healed up, we’ll go out for real and you can show me your moves.”

Michael rolled his eyes and grabbed another handful of M & M’s. “You won’t be able to handle my moves.”

Luke grabbed a sterile tray and peeled the plastic off of it, and set it down on Michael’s tray table beside the Kit Kats. “I look forward to it.”

Michael smirked, watching as Luke reached up to remove the small butterfly clip covering his stitches, and Michael went for it.

He grabbed a gentle hold of Luke’s scrub shirt and pulled him down, landing an awkward kiss to the corner of his mouth, where the little piercing hole was.

Luke froze, one hand landing on Michael’s pillow, and the other on his good shoulder.

Michael panicked, fearing he’d misread the signals and now he was just the crazy patient who kissed his nurse. He was about to pull away and apologize, when he felt the gentlest pressure of Luke kissing him back.

It only lasted a few more seconds before Luke was pulling back, examining his face up close.

Michael swallowed, feeling his lips tingle where’d they’d touched Luke’s.

“Are you that scared of getting your stitches out?” Luke whispered.

Michael snorted, and released the grip he had on Luke’s shirt. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, actually.”

Luke perched on Michael’s bed, and grabbed for the sterile scissors and made quick work of taking out the stitches. “If anyone asks, we met before you presented at the ED, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael agreed.

Luke removed the stitches and wiped over the scarred skin with an alcohol wipe before taking his gloves off.

“Maybe we met at the skate park.”

Luke laughed, and wrapped up all the medical waste and disposed of it in the bin. “Or at a café, or a bar, which would be more realistic.”

“I’ll say anything you want me to say.”

Luke made his way back to Michael’s beside, and checked his watch. “I have to get back.”

Michael sighed softly, and even though he was tired, he wished Luke could stay. “Go save some lives, then.”

Luke leant down and kissed Michael’s cheek. “I’ll come see you after my shift. I think you’re in the first group for theatre in the morning. “

“Lucky me,” Michael murmured.

Luke smiled, and straightened Michael’s blankets and reached up to brush some of his dark hair back. “You’ll be fine. You have a great surgeon, and you’ll have as much pain relief as you want.”

“And a hot nurse to fuss over me when I wake up?” Michael asked cheekily.

Luke snorted and rolled his eyes. “If you’re lucky.”

Michael smiled tiredly, watching as Luke cleaned up the mess of junk food on his tray table, and got up to leave. He was all business, double checking he had his penlight in his breast pocket, and checked the time once more before he was waving and heading for the door.

Luke paused, one hand on the handle, and threw a look back at Michael. “For the record, I think you’ll be lucky, tomorrow.”

Michael smiled and nodded his head in Luke’s direction, and watched him open the door and leave.


	5. Chapter 5

It seemed as though Michael’s life currently consisted of waking up.

In a new place, in yet another new level of pain he could never prepare for, surrounded by people he didn’t know, and weirds smells he was oddly used to. He knew the other option – of not waking up at _all_ – was a deeply depressing one, and considering Michael had gone to hell and back when he was fifteen to crawl _out_ of his depression, he figured he could accept that waking up wasn’t like it had been for most of his life.

After his surgery, he woke up to the sound of ringing telephones and the sound a hospital bed makes as it takes a corner too sharply. There’s air rushing up his nostrils, and a temperature monitor on his left index finger, and the blankets tucked around his hips was on the verge of too tight.

He couldn’t open his eyes, the anaesthetic keeping its claws in him for just a little while longer, and when he did open them, he was greeted with the same dull hospital ceiling he’d seen before he’d gone to sleep.

After he’d been wheeled into theatre, and a sharp sting was felt in the back of his left hand, and he’d been counted off to sleep, he’d thought about leaving a suggestion with Luke that the hospital paint the ceilings in bright colours. Hell, he could even do it himself, lay some drop cloths and create something whimsical on the ceiling of the operating rooms, so people wouldn’t be lulled to sleep thinking beige thoughts.

His thoughts ran away and it wasn’t until there was another shudder from another hospital bed, that Michael came back to cognitive thought. He was aware of how light he felt, how for the first time in so long that he wasn’t in pain.

He let out a sigh, blinking heavily, and wanted to get up out of bed so he could pee, and get some feeling back into his legs.

“You’re awake.”

Michael blinked slowly at the nurse who appeared at his side, reaching up to grab for a blood pressure cuff.

“You’re in recovery,” she explained softly, her touch gentle as she wrapped the cuff around his left bicep. “Your surgery went very well, and Dr Peters managed to repair the tear in your rotator cuff.”

Michael nodded, wincing as the cuff tightened around his arm. “M’thirsty.”

She smiled, watching the monitor as the cuff stopped inflating. “Your blood pressure is good,” she told him, deflating the cuff and removed it. “I can get you some water if you’d like. You must be hungry, too.”

At the thought of food, Michael’s stomach growled, and he was struck with the sense of not knowing anything. The time, the day, where he was in the hospital. The nurse said recovery, but St Vincent’s had many wings, what was the chance that he’d be near the maternity ward, or even the ED where Luke was?

“How about some biccies and ice cream?” the nurse offered.

Michael nodded and smiled tiredly, and was relieved when she left his side. He tipped his head back to look up at the beige ceiling and wondered how long he’d be stuck there before going back to his room.

He tried to discern the state of his shoulder, and he was able to quickly figure out he couldn’t move his right arm. Like before his surgery, his arm was strapped tightly to his chest, and Michael assumed there would be gauze covering the stitches from his surgery. He wondered how long he’d be stuck like that, as if he were a mannequin eagerly pointing constantly to the left.

The nurse returned with his food and wheeled over his tray table, and set down two packets of Arnott’s biscuits, a small tub of vanilla ice cream, a bottle of water _and_ a small bottle of lemonade.

“You need to replenish,” she explained, twisting the cap off the bottle of water. “Just press the call button if you need anything.”

Michael nodded and thanked her quietly, relieved when she let him be. He just wanted to be able to take care of himself, and he drained the bottle of water in one go before reaching for the biscuits. He managed to tear them open with his teeth, helping himself to a sugary nice biscuit.

It tasted amazing, and not at all as boring as he remembered from his childhood. It disappeared quickly and Michael helped himself to the chocolate chip cookie before reaching for his ice cream. There was a small plastic spoon, and a cardboard top on the tub, and as Michael picked it up, he realized his dilemma.

There was no way he was getting the top off of the tub on his own. And he hated the idea of calling the nurse back, because he was so goddamn sick of feeling helpless.

He let out a sigh and pushed his tray table away and lay back, letting his eyes fall shut. He just wanted to go _home_ , because he knew Calum would wait on him hand and foot, and wouldn’t make him feel like an invalid.

Or maybe to his parent’s place, so his mum could put on Pokemon and they could stuff their faces while his dad was at work.

He tried not to think of the reality – that he was stuck in hospital until he was given the all clear – and he felt his mood plummeting. He tried to go back to sleep, but the darker his mind got, the more everything started to annoy him.

His arm was strapped too tightly to his chest, he had an itch on his right ear that his left hand couldn’t reach, the blankets were too tight across his chest and he just wanted to eat some fucking ice cream.

“Psst.”

Michael frowned, listening to the sounds of the recovery ward, and tried to ignore the new sound.

“I know you’re awake.”

Michael sighed at the sound of Luke’s voice, but he opened his eyes to see the nurse lingering in the doorway.

“Not a good time?”

“No, it’s fine,” Michael mumbled.

Luke frowned and entered the room, dressed in black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, a messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Starting or finishing?”

Luke smiled and set his bag down on the floor beside Michael’s bed. “Starting. Your surgery was bumped.”

Michael nodded. “What time is it?”

“Almost four in the afternoon,” Luke told him, picking up Michael’s chart and flicked through it. “Oh, the surgery went well. You’ve got four keyhole incisions.”

Michael made a face and shrugged his good shoulder. “Great.”

“Uh oh,” Luke commented softly, putting the chart back. “You’re hospital hopeless.”

“I’m what?”

Luke smiled and perched on the side of Michael’s bed, reaching up to push a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “It happens to patients who are here longer than a day or two. It fucking sucks to be stuck in a hospital bed.”

Michael let out a soft sigh. “Yeah, it really does.”

Luke took his left hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am,” Michael said. “I just hate being useless.”

Luke leant down suddenly, and brushed his lips to Michael’s before sitting back.

Michael blinked, looking up at Luke’s flushed cheeks. “Was that a pity kiss?”

“Maybe,” Luke smirked. “I’m sorry. I hate that you’re bummed out.”

Michael squeezed his hand. “I appreciate the gesture. But if you wanted to make a real impression, you could open my ice cream.”

Luke laughed and picked up the tub. “So ice cream ranks above kisses, hm?”

“Well,” Michael began, smiling softly. “I _love_ ice cream. I’ve been eating it since I was a kid, but your kisses, I’ve really only had two now, and the first one wasn’t so great.”

“I’m mildly offended,” Luke told him, peeling the top off the cup of ice cream. “I should eat this in protest.”

“Don’t you dare,” Michael insisted. “It’s all I have left.”

Luke set the cup down and leant in again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Better?”

Michael lifted his hand to cup around the back of Luke’s neck and deepened the kiss slightly before nudging their noses together. “What ice cream?”

Luke kissed over the corner of his mouth and then his nose, and sat back. “You should go back to the ward soon,” he told him, picking up the spoon and dug it into the ice cream.

Michael didn’t even object when Luke extended the spoon, just leant forward to lick it off. “Same ward?” he asked.

“No,” Luke smiled. “You’ll go to the post-op ward. It’s a little further away from the ED, but closer to your mum in the maternity ward.”

“You’ll still visit?”

“Of course,” Luke smiled, and extended another spoonful. “You might even be discharged as early as tomorrow or the next day. You’ll be referred to a physiotherapist for your recovery, either at the hospital or somewhere independent.”

“When I’m home, I’ll have you over. Calum can cook before he goes out, and we can have a proper date. Not that I didn’t love our vending machine date.”

Luke laughed and fed Michael more ice cream. “It sounds like a plan. Noah goes to bed around seven, so I’m free after that.”

Michael smiled, and they fell into companionable silence as Luke fed him the rest of the ice cream.

“I’ll come check on you on my break,” Luke said softly once he set the empty tub down. “But you should get some rest.”

“Do you know how impossible that is in a hospital?” Michael asked. “All there is noise and machines and fucking beige ceilings.”

Luke looked up at the ceiling and laughed, his eyes landing back on Michael’s. “As much as I hate seeing you miserable, I like _seeing_ you, you know?”

Michael smiled, tired and genuine and reached out for Luke’s hand. “Yeah, me too.”

Luke smiled brighter and leant down to press a quick peck to his lips. “I should go. I need to get changed and do pre rounds.”

“Of course,” Michael nodded. “So, hey, you’re a really important doctor person, right?”

Luke scrunched his nose up and dipped down to pick up his bag. “I’m a _nurse_ , but I’ll play along.”

“Did you ever want to become a doctor?”

Luke shrugged. “I thought about it, when I was doing my degree. But then Kate fell pregnant and I questioned even becoming a nurse. She really encouraged me to go for my masters, and to become an RN.”

“Do you like, get to boss other nurses around?”

Luke laughed. “Sometimes. I mean, I’m the head RN when a major trauma comes in. I sort of organize the other nurses most of the time. Which means it’s up to me if things go wrong.”

Michael ran his fingers along the edge of his blanket. “That’s really something, you know? You save _lives_.”

Luke smiled and reached out to run his fingertips over the back of Michael’s hand. “Don’t let it get you down,” he said softly. “The hopelessness.”

Michael sighed. “I’ll try.”

Luke smiled again and stood up, hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “I’ll come check on you later. Try and get some rest.”

Michael bit his tongue, so completely sick of hearing the sentence from every hospital staff he’d met. But he smiled tightly instead and watched Luke go, and let his head fall back on his pillow.

**

Michael rolled his head around and listened to his neck crack. His body felt stiff, and he ached to get up and shuffle his way to the bathroom, but Calum was sitting at the end of his bed on his phone, his work boots kicked off and his ankles crossed as he scrolled, and Michael envied him.

But at the same time, Michael was so incredibly grateful for his presence, and even more relieved when Calum didn’t duck out a half hour after he arrived, informing Michael that he didn’t have any pressing Tuesday afternoon plans, and hoped that hanging out with Michael wasn’t frowned upon by hospital staff.

Michael had been moved to the physio ward the day before, into a private room with a view of the city, and he was given more freedom to actually get out of bed and take care of himself, if he kept his right arm immobile.

And it was impossible to actually move it, considering it was still strapped to his chest for twenty-three hours of the day, only getting a precious hour to shower and change hospital gowns with the help of a nurse. He’d learnt quickly to let go of whatever dignity he had left, and just let the nurses see him butt naked.

He had a possible discharge date of the following day, and Michael was counting down until he could walk from the hospital with an absolute promise he wouldn’t be returning.

Unless he was visiting Luke, of course.

He got to see the RN almost every day, and Michael lived for the moments they’d spend together, either before Luke’s shift, or during his break, but Michael especially loved when Luke would stop in at the end of his shift.

He was always rumpled and sleepy, and on more than one occasion, Luke had fallen asleep wedged in beside Michael on his bed, and Michael never had the heart to wake him.

At least until Luke would wake up panicked, worried that he’d fallen asleep and had to get back to Noah before a certain time. Then Luke requested that Michael never let him sleep past six in the morning, and Michael complied.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

Michael blinked over at Calum and raised his brows. “Huh?”

“That deep, tortured sighing thing,” Calum pointed out. “That’s your _Luke_ sigh.”

Michael snorted and rolled his eyes. “It is _not_. I’m just bored, and being in hospital _sucks_.”

Calum grinned. “I bought you a bag of crap to keep you busy,” he reminded him, gesturing to the bag on Michael’s tray table, full of comics, books, his iPad and iPod. And while Michael appreciated it, all he wanted was to take a walk.

“You should have a cigarette.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to quit.”

“Then _I_ should have a cigarette,” Michael said. “I’m serious, get me out of this room.”

Calum locked his phone and set it down beside Michael’s feet. “Are you allowed?”

“Yes!” Michael insisted. “I’m allowed to take a piss by myself now, I’m allowed to hit up the vending machines in the waiting room and I sure as hell can walk outside if I want.”

“Jeez, hospital makes you cranky,” Calum muttered, swinging his legs around and jammed his feet into his work boots.

“Well, you can thank my stupid physio for keeping me here an extra few days. I’m going to be a total bastard until you take me home tomorrow.”

Calum huffed and got up off the bed, peeling back Michael’s blankets. “Then maybe your mum can take you home instead.”

“Don’t keep me from my bed, Calum Hood,” Michael accused, using his best friend’s outstretched hand to get out of bed.

“Easy,” Calum reminded him.

Michael rolled his eyes.

Calum took a hold of Michael’s left elbow, supporting his weight until Michael was steady on his feet before he let go.

“I’m standing,” Michael sighed happily. He tugged at his hospital gown, making sure that he was closed in the back.

“You good?”

Michael nodded, grabbing his phone and slid his feet into his thongs. “Lead the way to civilization.”

Calum smirked and headed for the door, Michael shuffling behind him. He smiled at the familiar nurses as he passed, finding that they were a lot less in his face in the physio ward. He was grateful, because he was becoming a real prick every time he was asked how he was feeling.

It was turning him into a horrible person, and the most frustrating thing was that Michael was there because of his own stupidity. He should’ve been at home slaving over his novel, or doing his actual job so he could pay the bills. He knew his savings wouldn’t last much longer, he’d need to get back to proof reading as quick as he could.

“You okay?”

Michael blinked, noticing that he was standing beside Calum in an otherwise empty elevator, and they were slowly descending to the ground floor.

“Michael?”

“Oh,” Michael rasped out, leaning back against the solid wall. “Yeah, I guess.”

Calum frowned. “No you’re not.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

Calum’s face broke into a soft smile. “I can bust you out of here, if you want? Right now, we’ll leg it to the car park and go find a McDonalds.”

Michael smiled, letting his head thump back against the wall gently. “My mum would kill me. And I think Luke would, too. With the luck I’ve had lately, I’d end up cutting my arm off.”

Calum smiled as the elevator stopped smoothly, and the doors opened. He extended his arm to hold them open so Michael could step out into the busy lobby. “How’re things with Luke?”

Michael shrugged his good shoulder and shuffled alongside Calum. “Surreal. I think we only exist inside the walls of the hospital.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I only exist with Ashton in his mum’s fucked up backyard.”

“Yeah, how’s that going?”

Calum eased open one of the many glass doors to lead them out into the sunlight. “The yard is a lot worse than I thought, and I’m going to have to rent an earth shifter. It’s like trying to hack through concrete.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t actually asking about the yard part,” Michael intoned, with a wry smile on his face.

Calum laughed and led them towards the smoking area, where a few people attached to IV poles sat. “Me and Ash aren’t going anywhere,” he admitted. “I thought for a bit that we were, but he’s been busy.”

“Busy doesn’t mean it’s over,” Michael offered, taking a seat in the full sun and closed his eyes, turning his face up to the sky.

Calum dug a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Nice try, but I think it’s done.”

Michael cracked open one eye to watch Calum light his cigarette. “How is it that we both managed to find guys at the same time?”

“We _found_ them, we’re not _dating_ them.”

Michael pouted and closed his eye. “I’m getting further with Luke than you are with Ash.”

“Ouch,” Calum muttered, kicking at Michael’s leg half-heartedly.

Michael smiled and hummed softly, the sun warming him up. His shoulder ached with the effort of walking downstairs, but it was worth it to feel human again.

Calum sunk down on the bench beside Michael and took a drag off his cigarette. “I feel like it’s just not going to happen.”

Michael opened both eyes, and watched as two people got up and left the smoking area, leaving Calum and Michael and an older guy alternating between drags off a smoke, and a desperate gasp from an oxygen mask.

“What’s not going to happen?”

Calum took a drag. “Me with like, _anyone_.”

Michael sighed and leant into Calum gently, despite the acrid scent of his cigarette. “You know that’s not true,” he said softly. “You always get like this when you’re in a slump, so do I.”

“Your slumps include whiny desperation about how you’ll be alone forever.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to _help_ you, asshole.”

Calum exhaled a cloud of smoke and took one last drag before reaching over to crush it out on the bins edge. “I need to get laid.”

“You need to ask Ashton out,” Michael amended. “ _Then_ you need to get laid. By Ashton. You need Ashton to fuck you.”

Calum shot him a look and dug his elbow into Michael’s ribs. “Yeah thanks, I can follow cognitive thought, y’know.”

Michael grinned, almost giddy from his exposure to the sun. He could get _used_ to this.

“I really think he’s straight, though.”

“He works in _child care_ ,” Michael said, making a face.

“To hit on single mums, maybe?”

Michael shook his head. “No, no one works in child care to pick up single mums. He’s either certifiable, or he’s gay.”

“That’s so generalist!”

“You’re dodging!” Michael responded. “I always know how to push your buttons.”

Calum made a face. “I feel like it would’ve happened already, if it was going to happen, that is.”

“When I’m home, I’m coming to work with you and I’m going to walk you both through an adult conversation.”

“Says the guy who has an arm strapped to his chest and who has vivid wet dreams about the nurse that saved him.”

Michael made a shocked face and pressed his free hand to his chest. “You’re so fucking _vicious_ during your dry spells.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Whatever, at least I’m not confined to a room because I can’t be trusted not to injure myself.”

Michael opened his mouth to refute Calum’s statement, despite how right he was, but stopped when he saw Luke. He was wearing tight blue jeans and a flannel, his bag strung over his shoulder as he hurriedly walked up the ramp to the hospital.

Trailing behind him was a little boy, who dawdled despite his father’s pace, who was undeniably Luke’s son.

“Isn’t that Luke?”

Michael crushed his eyes shut.

“Who’s the kid?”

“Okay, so I may have not told you _everything_ about Luke.”

**

“He has a KID?”

Michael dug his fingernails into the inside of Calum’s wrist and _winced_. “Would you keep your voice down?”

Calum paid no attention to Michael as he led the way back inside the hospital, spurned on his search to find Luke after hearing the entire story of how Luke ended up with a five year old son. Michael had begged him to stay put, that chasing after Luke and Noah wasn’t a good idea, but Calum couldn’t be swayed, and he clearly had the physical advantage and shrugged Michael off easily.

Michael tried to keep up, but he was used to absolutely zero physical activity, and he was exhausted by the time they reached the elevators.

“So he just, slept with a girl?”

“Yes,” Michael sighed, pushing Calum into the empty elevator when the doors slid open. “And could you maybe shut up about it?”

Calum rubbed his fingers over his jaw, contemplating all the information Michael had given him. “Doesn’t this put the brakes on for you?”

“What does that mean?”

“Michael, you’re not kid friendly,” Calum pointed out bluntly.

Michael gaped at him. “What? I’m not like, fucking _horrible_ with kids!”

“Your closest cousins live in Florida now, and I’ve seen you _sneer_ at kids when we go grocery shopping.”

“Because unsupervised kids in Coles are my fucking Achilles heel,” Michael insisted. “I don’t _hate_ kids.”

“You don’t _want_ kids.”

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but his words got stuck in his throat.

“I’m just shocked, is all.”

“Well, I was too!” Michael insisted, leaning back against the wall. “And maybe this is going to be a bigger issue than I thought,” he begrudgingly admitted.

Calum patted his good shoulder as the lift came to a stop on Michael’s ward. “You never know, you might love having a kid around.”

Michael watched Calum step out of the lift and lingered for an extra half second before following him, and almost ran smack bang into Luke.

“Hey! I was wondering where you got to.”

Michael blinked, taking a moment to realize Luke was standing in front of him. “Oh, hey. Yeah, Calum broke me out for a bit.”

Luke smiled, running a hand through his slightly messy hair and tucked a chart under his arm. “I’ve got good news.”

Michael smiled, falling into step with Luke as they followed Calum’s path back to his room. “Is it _the_ good news I’ve been waiting for?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“If your good news is that you’re being discharged in the morning?”

Michael laughed. “It most certainly is.”

“Then congrats,” Luke said warmly. “Your jailbreak is scheduled for eight am sharp.”

And as happy as Michael was to hear it, there was a big part of him that was disappointed he wouldn’t see Luke every day.

“Hey so I’m running late, but I’ll come back up on my break, okay?”

Michael nodded, and waved as Luke rushed off back towards the elevators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long (I honestly can't remember when I put the last chapter up!) I'm moving house!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for commenting, I normally try to respond to each one, but life is crazy! Please keep leaving comments, I love to read them, and they mean so much to me!


	6. Chapter 6

“You look _terrible_.”

Michael made a face, and despite the fact he _knew_ how terrible he looked, he didn’t like hearing it from his mother.

“Sweetheart, are you eating? It’s been three days.”

Michael couldn’t really remember the last time he ate, whether it was an hour previous, or a day ago. All he could really concentrate on since coming home from hospital three days prior, was that he was _tired_.

It was constant, it was unrelenting, and Michael wasn’t strong enough to fight it. He’d wake up exhausted, and barely had time to feed himself before he was passing out, holed up in his bedroom and sleeping the day away before Calum came home, then they’d eat dinner, and Calum would help him shower, and then Michael ended up back between the sheets once more.

He knew it wasn’t healthy, that he had to get back into a routine before insomnia hit. It was always the other end of the spectrum for him. Either he slept too much, or not at all.

“I made a few nights worth of meals,” his mother was saying, as she made her way towards the kitchen. “Lasagne, butter chicken, spaghetti and sausage casserole. There’s enough for Calum too, so just defrost it in the microwave.”

Michael yawned and followed her, leaning up against the doorframe to the kitchen. “Thanks, mum.”

“Now, you’re not taking too many painkillers?”

“No,” he told her. “I can have eight a day, I’m taking four.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Now, do you have a post op appointment scheduled? I’m on nights this week so I can take you whenever.”

“I think I have one next week, but Calum offered to take me,” he told her. “I’m really fine, okay?”

She made a face and then sighed, gripping the loop of her handbag. “I’m worried, sweetheart. You’re alone all day, and what happens if you have another fall?”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “I’m being really careful, and I’m not trying to do too much.”

Michael’s left arm was still in the tight, restrictive sling, and he looked forward to starting rehab with his physio to get his strength and mobility back.

“Have you heard from Luke?”

Michael felt his eyes widen, and his mouth fell open. He tried to rewind his thoughts to the point where he’d told his mother about Luke, but he couldn’t find it, and he was starting to panic.

“I ran into a few of the nurses from the physio ward. They said he visits you a lot.”

“I, uh, I mean,” Michael rambled, his throat dry. “What?”

She smiled. “Honey, it’s fine. You usually tell me when you meet someone new, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m, uh. I’m sorry,” he offered, shrugging his good shoulder. “We sort of met in the ER, and Luke can get in trouble if that gets out, so we just…I’m sorry, this is really strange.”

Karen smiled. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I just wanted to see if you were going to see him again. He’s lovely, and very good at his job.”

Michael nodded slowly. He’d been trading texts with Luke over the past three days, whenever he had enough awareness to remember how to text, that is. Things were progressing, sort of, and Michael knew that he needed his routine back so he could actually see Luke again.

“I need to run,” Karen announced. “You should call Luke, I think he has a few days off over the weekend.”

Michael nodded dumbly as she pressed a kiss to his cheek before hurrying out of the kitchen. He stood there for a long moment, as he listened to the front door click shut, and the sound of his mother’s car in the driveway.

He lost track of how long he stood there, his thoughts of Luke spinning into a blur, until the sound of a door slamming got his attention.

“Michael!”

Michael frowned, leaning his head back to see Calum by their front door, trying to kick off his boots without untying the laces.

“Hey, fuckface!”

“I’m right here,” Michael said wryly, a frown on his face. “And there is really no need for name calling.”

Calum’s grin was bright, and stretched across his face. He laughed brightly and flung off his left boot, hitting it against the wall with a thud. “Mate, I did it.”

“You did what?” Michael asked, moving out into the living room to snake his hand in under his sling to itch his arm. “Did you finally hit puberty?”

“Fuck you,” Calum responded, leaning down to untie his right boot before easing it off, discarding it by the door. “I asked Ashton out, in case you were wondering. Like an _actual_ date. I said the word _date_ as well, just to be sure.”

Michael smiled. “That’s great, dude.”

“It is!” Calum agreed, letting out a soft laugh. “We’re going to dinner on Friday night.”

An idea hit Michael quickly, and a grin curled onto his face.

“Oh no,” Calum said flatly, peeling off his socks. “I know that look.”

“I’m going to have Luke over, on Friday night,” Michael nodded. “Can you help me cook before your date?”

Calum’s expression was uneasy for a moment. “Neither of us can cook,” he said needlessly.

“I know, but I figure that we’re both shit, so us together has to be almost decent.”

Calum wasn’t convinced. “I mean, we can try. Nothing harder than pasta, though.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, totally.”

Calum passed into the kitchen for a beer, and leant up against the kitchen counter as he took a slow drink from it. “Considering I’ve had a totally awesome day, I’ll help,” he nodded. “I’m feeling incredibly charitable.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael said sarcastically.

Calum laughed. “Dude, this means we might actually be dating at the same time.”

“That hasn’t happened since like, grade ten,” Michael snorted. “When you were dating that bitch – what was her name?”

“Mikayla,” Calum supplied. “And she wasn’t a _bitch_ , just like –“

“A total raging, c-word,” Michael finished.

Calum made a face. “I hate that word.”

“I didn’t _say_ it.”

“But you said c-word! That puts it in my head!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re really fucking weird about that word.”

“I hate it,” Calum insisted. “Anyway, weren’t we talking about out tragic significant others from grade ten?”

“At least my boyfriend at the time was _nice_ to me,” Michael pointed out.

“He took your virginity in a handicapped bathroom stall and didn’t even acknowledge you at school.”

Michael made a face. “That’s right, what a prick.”

“ _He_ was a c-word.”

Michael smirked over at Calum. “Yeah, definitely a c-word.”

**

**[Sent 09:48PM]** _You should comver over for dinner Frid night arund 7_

Michael cringed, and let his phone drop down against his chest. It glanced off his chin, which he felt he deserved after sending such a horribly grammatically incorrect text. He wished he could take it back as his phone made a soft _whoosh_ sound to remind him that Luke was definitely going to read it at some point, and probably never reply because Michael was illiterate.

He had reached insomnia, sometime around nine when Calum had fallen asleep on the couch with a half empty can of beer in his hand. Michael had mothered him; turning off the TV and brushed chip crumbs off his bare chest and poked and prodded at him until Calum dragged himself up off the couch and stumbled down the hall to bed.

Then Michael was faced with a dilemma.

He wanted to shower, but Calum had been asleep before he hit his mattress, and Michael really wasn’t stupid enough to try and shower alone. Getting his arm in and out of his sling was a two-man job, that usually resulted in bringing tears to his eyes.

So he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, drumming his fingers against his knee as he tried to convince himself he was tired, that if he just lay down, maybe he’d fall asleep too. But he’d pushed his exhaustion too far, now he was too awake, insomnia digging its claws into him tightly.

He figured that was why he’d texted Luke, hoping he’d be available to take his mind off of the numbingly boring night Michael knew he had ahead of him. But as five minutes passed, then ten, he realized Luke was probably working, probably saving _lives_ while Michael had a pity party for one because he wasn’t tired.

It made him feel horrible about himself, which wasn’t something new, but Michael was trying to grow up. Because his potential future boyfriend had a four year old, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the conversation he’d had with Calum when he was still in hospital.

About him not liking kids, about not _wanting_ kids.

And while Michael knew that’s what he’d always said, growing up as someone without motivation, he had never really thought too far into his future. He knew Calum wanted kids; only two and preferably a boy and a girl, but he wouldn’t be opposed to two boys. He wanted them three years apart, after five years with his significant other, and then they’d move to Windsor, where he’d get his kids out in the yard, teaching them about different flowers and plants.

Calum had a _plan,_ and all Michael ever bothered to think about was what take away he’d get for dinner on Tuesday nights.

So Noah was a curve ball, even if Michael hadn’t met him. Because he knew that if Luke was ever going to be interested in him, he’d have to show him that he was mature, that he liked kids. Luke had to put Noah first, and Michael wouldn’t expect anything less.

He just didn’t quite have faith in himself just yet.

Michael was pulled out of his thoughts by his phone, and he picked it up where it still lay on his chest to check his message.

**[Received 11:01PM]** _Did you have a stroke? :- )_

He smiled, feeling the happiness flush through him at the delivery of Luke’s text.

**[Sent 11:05PM]** _Still trying 2 get usd to typing one hsnded_

**[Received 11:08PM]** _So were you asking me over for dinner or did I misread your text?_

**[Sent 11:10PM]** _Maybe_

Michael laughed softly, watching as the text sent, and how the little bubbles appeared to let him know Luke was responding. He felt giddy and reckless, and he wished he could see him, to kiss him and run his fingers through Luke’s thick blonde curls

**[Received 11:15PM]** _Maybe? I don’t get a babysitter just for maybe_

Michael snorted. He awkwardly gripped his phone in his right hand, trying to punch out a reply.

**[Sent 11:18PM]** _Calm has a date and he prmosised to cook b4 he left so do u wanna cme for dinner or what?_

**[Received 11:21PM]** _Yes_

Michael sighed with relief, pressing his lips to the screen of his phone for a moment. He could imagine it in his head, Luke coming over in those tight black skinny jeans, and they’d eat pasta and drink wine – although Michael probably wouldn’t considering his mother had given him a ten minute lecture about pain medication and alcohol – and they’d talk and laugh and maybe make out a bit on the couch, and Michael wondered if he could blow Luke with his shoulder still in his sling?

**[Received 11:30PM]** _Still with me?_

Michael crushed his eyes shut, shaking his head gently to clear the images in his head. He knew he’d deal with his libido later – forever grateful he still had his trusty right hand to help himself out – and he focused back on his phone.

**[Sent 11:33PM]** _I miss seeing u aeveryday_

**[Received 11:35PM]** _Same :- )_

Michael smiled.

**[Received 11:36PM]** _I haven’t dated in a while ok? I’m nervous_

**[Sent 11:38PM]** _Oh thank god_

**[Sent 11:39PM]** _I’m a basket case_

**[Received 11:41PM]** _I can’t wait to see you_

Michael let out a soft sigh, and let his phone screen fade to black. He felt the same sort of feeling pass through him whenever he was talking to Luke. Like it was meant to be, or something Disney like that. He wasn’t one for fate and destiny, but he figured that something good had to come out of him fucking up his shoulder.

Maybe that thing was Luke.

**[Received 11:50PM]** _Gotta get back, ED is busy. Talk soon <3_

Michael decided not to reply, instead letting his phone drop beside him in bed, and closed his eyes.

**

“Okay, okay, I _know_ , but yelling at me isn’t going to make my shoulder any better.”

Michael flinched, tugging his phone away from his ear as his agent screamed down the phone at him. He knew it was coming, had probably known it since he landed himself in hospital the first time, and he wondered if he’d ever grow the fuck up, and _not_ ride the proverbial skateboard down the proverbial half pipe.

“Michael, you don’t understand,” his agent stressed. “Every _day_ past your deadline is another day that the publisher doesn’t get to read it. And if they don’t get to read it, they don’t _publish_ it.”

Michael sighed. “I get it, Kim, I do, but I had _surgery_. I’m not sitting here fucking around, I genuinely _want_ to be writing right now!”

Calum poked his head out of the kitchen where he was cooking dinner, to see Michael pacing the living room, a cricket game muted on the TV.

Michael caught his eye and raised his eyebrows, and just kept pacing.

There was nothing he could say to placate the irate woman on the other end of the phone, and if Michael was honest, he knew he deserved it. He did something stupid which put his dream at risk, all because he didn’t want to be called a loser by a bunch of fifteen year olds at a fucking skate park.

But he had reached the point where he was _over it_ , forcing himself to type right handed to get at least _some_ of his ideas onto paper. Every second that ticked by that he wasn’t writing was just another second that meant his dream was slipping away, like his agent said.

“I know this is hard,” Kim acquiesced, though it sounded like someone was holding a gun to her head as she said it. “I have to push you, because they’re pushing me. They love Jet Black Sun, Michael, and I do too.”

Michael snorted. “Don’t you mean Jet Black _Heart_ , Kim?”

She let out an annoyed sigh. “I’m juggling sixteen authors, Michael. You’re lucky I can remember your name.”

Michael knew he was lucky, that he had to fight to get Kim on his side. She had eagerly read his first draft, and had been exceptionally excited to give him feedback. She was a bulldog of an agent, and she had managed to line up three publishers that were interested in his ideas.

“Just tell me _something_ ,” she begged.

“I’m writing,” Michael told her. “It’s slow, and I’m contemplating just handwriting things at the moment but I’m –“

“No handwriting,” she interrupted. “I can’t take Harper Collins and Penguin some stained writing paper with your illegible scrawl.”

Calum knocked on the wall to get Michael’s attention, holding up the box that had been taunting Michael since he got home.

“I…I can try dictation,” Michael muttered, defeated.

Calum had bought it for him before his surgery, and Michael wasn’t sure if it was a gag gift before Calum told him how much it cost. While it was a good idea, it wasn’t how Michael worked, and he was stubborn and unwavering, which he figured was one of the main reasons he was in this mess.

“That’s great!” Kim enthused. “Get talking then, Clifford. I want six chapters by this time next week.”

Michael knew he had that in him, more in fact. But the idea of sitting down in front of his laptop and _talking_ to it seemed certifiable.

“I’m calling you Saturday morning!” Kim insisted. “You’re going to have two chapters done, and you’re going to give me a very detailed rundown of each one!”

Michael didn’t have time to agree or refute her statement as the dial tone sounded in his ear, and he let out a deep, perturbed sigh.

“Told you so.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Michael snapped, tempted to throw his phone in Calum’s direction.

“Hey, I’m the only one here _helping_ you,” Calum pointed out; using the wooden spoon he was holding to point at Michael.

He slumped down onto the couch and sighed, letting his phone drop heavily onto the coffee table. “I know,” he mumbled. “I just feel like I’m going to forever be reminded of how much of a moron I am for hurting myself like this.”

Calum sat down beside him, their thighs pressed together. “It’s time to stop beating yourself up about that,” he advised. “It happened, it was fucked up, but move the fuck on already. You’ve had surgery, and you’re recuperating and you can’t do anything to hurry that along.”

“I feel like that’s what Kim’s waiting to hear, though.”

“Well, to be blunt she’s kind of a bitch, and isn’t here watching you trying to type one handed and getting frustrated with yourself. Just bite the pillow and use the dictation…thing.”

Michael scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “It’s weird, okay? Talking to my computer. I don’t like to _hear_ my thoughts, I just want to read them.”

“That’s what headphones are for.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

“Blast whatever pop punk band you’re into at the moment and talk to your computer, dumbass.”

Michael frowned, and ignored the slap Calum laid on his knee and pursed his lips. “Will that…work?”

“Provided you don’t start singing along, I think it’ll work fine.”

Michael grinned up at his roommate, and Calum gestured at him with the wooden spoon again. “You mean _now_?”

“No time like the present,” Calum shrugged. “I think I’m majorly fucking up this stir fry, so you have at least twenty minutes until it’s fucked completely, and then I’ll need to duck out for Thai food. So, maybe an hour?”

Michael nodded, getting up off the couch when his phone sounded.

“Oh, is that lover boy?”

Michael picked up his phone to see Luke’s name. “It’s your mum. She wants to meet up tonight.”

Calum laughed and flipped him off. “Get her to come round, then. Haven’t seen her in a while!”

Michael rolled his eyes and flipped off his best friend’s retreating back before unlocking his phone.

**[Received 06:15PM]** _Help, need book recs for a 4 yr old_

**[Sent 06:18PM]** _Pig the Pug for sure_

**[Received 06:21PM]** _I promised noah I’d bring a new book home but I forgot. Dad of the year :- (_

**[Sent 06:24PM]** _you’re a great dad and you can’t go past hairy mclairy either_

Michael could see it now.

Luke in a bookstore in front of the kid’s books, wondering which one to choose, probably half-dead from a long shift at work, maybe still in his scrub shirt.

**[Received 06:29PM]** _pig the pug, got it!_

**[Received 06:31PM]** _he would’ve eaten me alive if I forgot a new story_

Michael sucked in a breath, watching Luke’s texts appear. He thought about their date scheduled for the following night, how in just twenty-four hours he’d have sweaty palms and heartburn from anxiety, thinking about what he’d say or do, if he’d have the guts to hold Luke’s hand when they ate dessert or not.

**[Received 06:38PM]** _you’re the best Michael :- )_

**[Sent 06:40PM]** _I like you luke_

**[Sent 06:41PM]** _a lot_

**[Sent 06:42PM]** _J_

Michael held his breath and watched as the texts went through, and watched as Luke began to reply. He held his breath, standing by the coffee table in the middle of the living room, having a panic attack over a _boy_.

**[Received 06:46PM]** _I like you more :- ) see you tomorrow night_

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been awhile!
> 
> I'm not even sure if the readers of my older stuff are still around, so if you are, hey! And a warm welcome to the newbies too! 
> 
> My life has changed in a big way, and I don't have any writing time left anymore, and if I'm being honest, I haven't had any inspiration to write within the 5SOS fandom anymore. So I think this will most likely be my last posted work in this fandom, so thanks to anyone reading and commenting, I promise I read each and every one and am more grateful than I can express. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one, it's different and one I loved working on.


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